Stoned
by Raiast
Summary: Why her? Why did it have to be Krista? Shouldn't it have been ME that would lose my mind? And then I remembered that I already had.
1. Prologue

Feet shuffled over dark, damp pavement, apathetically kicking through litter. They kicked aside the remnants of a beer bottle, and I giggled softly when the tinkling of glass over pavement tickled my ears. I sloshed through a shallow puddle, pausing to watch the water shimmer. With the dim light that shone down over me, I saw my reflection, eyes wide with awe and distant amusement. I reached down and let my finger skim the surface, smiling at the ripples I caused.

When my uncanny enjoyment had been somehow fulfilled, I moved on, feet scraping the ground lazily. I saw it before any sort of sound had reached my ears; a shadow shifting across the wall of the alley. I paused, my head lolling languidly to the right as I studied this.

"Say," the nasally voice began, shifting forward more until the dark figure of a man took shape. "say, _what_ is a pretty little girl like you _doing_ out. Alone. At night. Hmm?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but paused at the sounds of crisp steps advancing towards me. He kept on me until we were less than a foot apart. My lead feet couldn't have moved back even if I'd thought about it. He inclined his head toward me in a confidential manner. On his face were smears of white, red and black paint and a faint grin that ended in a Glasgow smile. "Don't you know there's a _craaaaazy_ (he shook his head violently) man on the loose?" he erupted into a shrill laughter that pierced the silence of the alley like a knife.

I knew who this man was. I'd seen him on the news countless times. He was the topic of 80% of all conversation, and had been since his sudden appearance two months ago. I knew that no one knew exactly _how_ many people he killed. I knew that he could easily kill me now.

The only problem was, I was too stoned to make myself care.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

He mistook my stoned silence for fear and laughed; a creepy, bone-chilling _cackle_. I just looked on, my foggy mind unsure of what action to take. "What's…the…_matter_?" he asked me, unnecessarily drawing out each word softly. "You look a little _nervous_," he stated, moving around me. "Just a little _tense_," he raised his thumb and forefinger with the world 'little', holding them half an inch apart.

I shook my head slowly. "No…" I trailed, forcing my gaze up to his. Neither of us moved, but the alley seemed to spin around me for the briefest of moments. That was some _good_ skank, but at the moment I was close to regretting having smoked it. That annoyed me. Who was this painted freak to cut my high short? "No, I'm fine," I slurred out softly, and because I was under the influence and an uneasy fluttering had begun in my stomach, the statement sounded slightly less than convincing.

He laughed again and regarded me with skeptical eyes. "Not nervous, eh?" his tongue darted out across his lips quickly and suddenly there was a blade in his hand. "Why's _that_ do you think?"

I shrugged, a smile forming on my lips. Why _wasn't_ I scared? The most wanted man in Gotham was standing inches away from me, weapon in hand, we were alone in a dark alley at 2:30 in the morning, and I was so _fucking chopped_, that I couldn't even _make_ myself care! The whole thing was so funny to my doped mind that I found a giggle was bubbling up from my soul and spilling off of my lips before I could stop it.

He smiled in response, and I laughed harder, doubling over, one hand shooting out to support myself with the brick wall next to me. I kept laughing until tears formed in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks, and when I attempted to sober myself and looked up at the clown before me, I laughed harder. Somewhere along the way my hand had moved from the wall to clutching his exotic purple lapel, and when it registered that it wasn't just my maniacal laughter bouncing through the alley, I almost collapsed to the ground with the new wave of giddiness that washed over me.

I forced deep breaths and shook my head, trying to remember why I was laughing in the first place. The sudden concentration helped rail me in a little more, and I chanced a glance upward, straightening myself. The lapel of his coat was still bunched in my fisted hands. His laughter had died out as well, and he stared at me, smiling wide. The knife still resided in his right hand, but they came to rest of my hips lightly regardless, pulling me slightly closer.

A satisfying jolt shot from my heart to my groin, and I felt my breath hitch in my chest. My hands were curled loosely, but still rested against his hard chest. The material of his coat scratched my hands as I willed myself even closer, looking up into his eyes hungrily. It was the dope. It had to be. I had a long track record for stupid decisions because smoking pot had made me more than a tad horny. "I'm so stoned," I admitted softly, a fresh wave of giggles washing over me. He continued smiling, one of his hands reaching around to rest on the small of my back, drawing me closer with the action.

Each chest brushed the others lightly, and I was sure he could feel the vibration from my pounding heart. My pulse throbbed in my ears, deafening out all other sounds save for our breathing, mine ragged and erratic, his shallow and controlled. All it took was for me to look up, just tilt my head up and our lips would connect. Despite my treacherous hormones urging me on, I couldn't complete the simple task. His knife-wielding hand shifted and as the cool silver met the bottom of my chin my eyes fluttered shut, black replacing the purple and green of his suit. I kept them closed lightly as the pressure on the blade increased, tilting my face up towards his inch by inch. The slight moan that escaped my throat as our lips touched couldn't be helped, and I blamed it on the drugs. Why was I such a pothead, anyways?

The metal left, disposed of _somewhere_, and then his hand was cupping my cheek softly, his other hand stroking my spine slowly. My hands decided to travel upwards until they wrapped around his neck, and his tongue slipped in to meet mine. My trembling hands wrapped themselves in soft, dirty curls, deepening our kiss. I barely noticed when he shifted us so I was pressed up against the wall behind me.

He broke the contact between our lips but didn't move otherwise. His warm breath blew over my face, his chest raising and falling slightly quicker than it had been a moment ago. I knew the look that was frozen on my features: eyes lidded, mouth slightly open, eyebrows furrowed in slight frustration due to the pause, and, above all else, despite _every_ emotion that I was feeling that moment, my expression was that of lust. Pure. Unadulterated. Lust. It was my strongest emotion at that time, and the drugs were anything but kind to that fact—I left myself _faaaaar_ too vulnerable in situations such as these. No poker face. Pot won't allow it. I'm just _too loose_. Which might have been my biggest problem at that time.

It was late. Very late. And the Joker had me alone. In an alley. Wrapped in his arms. _Begging for more_. Silently, sure, but still _begging_ him for it. _Please kiss me again, just once more, come on please, please, please do it. I want you. I need that feeling. Feels so good. So exhilarating. Come on, kiss me, kiss me, please, come on…_

My eyes fluttered open when he didn't answer my silence calls, and was met with the most intense gaze I'd ever witnessed; sharp, humorous, and with enough lust to match my own. "More," was all I could manage, and to my surprise (and delight) the word came out as more of a command than the desperate plea it was in my body. It was all he needed, for only seconds passed before his lips were on mine again, and I was whimpering in pleasure. He didn't stay there long, and I reflexively tilted my head to one side as his lips traveled down my neck.

"God!" I gasped involuntarily as his tongue darted across a particularly sensitive spot below my ear. He laughed against my skin, but it wasn't a laugh I'd ever heard from him before: short, soft, _pleased_. When he stayed there, teasing me with nips and licks, I decided that this couldn't go unanswered. I shifted away from his mouth and found my opportunity to dive at his own neck, biting, kissing and licking the soft flesh there. He smelled like gasoline, and the scent was intoxicating, dizzying my already spinning head. His hands wrapped into my hair as I worked, urging me on. I soon found his own sensitive area, and as his raspy moan met my ears I tingled with pleasure.

I pulled back, needing more of his lips and that expert tongue, but before I could go for the gold a voice sounded from the entrance of the alley.

"Boss?" It came soft and urgent. "Boss, we need to—"

Neither of us knew _what_ they had to do; the secret died with the interrupter. I was barely aware of him pocketing the gun again, but the whole situation was so funny to me that I giggled. This was _not_ a man you wanted to interrupt during sexy-time. His hands traveled up my back slowly, pulling our bodies closer, and before I knew it his lips were on mine again. The scars at the side of his mouth brushed against me as our tongues battled, sending another gratifying jolt to my groin. It was an odd feeling, but I liked it. A cop car flew past the alley in which we stood wrapped in each other's arms, siren wailing, and it seemed that was what it took to snap him back to reality.

"Oops," he stated, chuckling softly. "Forgot," he smiled down at me, and I bit my lip. I _liked_ the way he looked at me. "I'm supposed to be escaping."

We giggled together softly at the blunder. "That was probably what he wanted to tell you," I pointed out softly, nodding in the dead man's direction.

His response was merely a grin, and I think it may have been that way because his eyes were doing that dark, intense, lustful thing again, sending jolts to my every nerve. As if remembering yet again that he was supposed to be doing something, he smiled and backed off of me quickly, digging into a pocket in his coat.

"Tell ya what, gorgeous," he said lightly, his fingers grasping what he'd been searching for. "Here's my card," he was brushing against me again as he slipped said card into my shaking fingers. "I'll see you again. Real. Soon."

All I could do was nod dumbly before he took off down the alley, hanging a quick right onto a side street. I stared at the spot where he disappeared for awhile before my fingers twitched, reminding me of what I possessed. I looked down at it, turning around slowly.

A regular playing card, with an intricate design of black diamonds and lines; the face of the card revealed a dancing, red Joker.

In the distance, I heard laughter.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**That's it for now, kiddies! Should I continue this? Not sure...**


	2. J is for Jacked

I had later returned to my apartment, but don't remember when or how. I took out my contacts carefully, forcing my eyes to the task instead of the white and red smudges that decorated my pale skin.

I stripped down to my underwear and rifled through the piles of clothes that blocked my every path. Finally successful, I pulled on a big white t-shirt and traffic-cone-orange boxer shorts before snuggling myself into bed.

Suddenly very weary from my ebbing high, I tried to force myself to zonk out. Instead, my mind became a movie screen, and I was watching myself making out with the fucking _Joker_ in a dark, deserted alley.

My bed suddenly felt stiff and cold, and something was hanging over me, and it didn't take much longer to figure out that the hard surface was the cold brick wall behind me. And the object suffocating me was the Joker, his hands roaming as he ravished my neck. I moaned, and was rewarded with a smile, pressed against my flaming skin.

And then he was pulling away, taking my hand, running. The alley streaked by us as we ran, stopping when we got to the right road. Sirens wailed around us, approaching. I turned wide-eyed to the Joker.

"What do we do?"

He shrugged. "Slow 'em down," and with that he shoved me out into the street, right in front of the speeding police car—

I jolted awake, then took a deep, relaxing breath when I realized it was just a dream. I was suddenly very aware of my surroundings; the feeling brought on by the burst of adrenaline that flowed through my blood. The news channel lit my room faintly, the volume low. Had I turned that on before getting into bed? I thought I had just crashed, but it was also very possible that I turned it on and fell right asleep.

I blinked my eyes a few times, shifted, and froze. My gaze landed on the chair in the corner of my room, where a purple coat was draped across the arms. My eyes flitted over every inch of my room, resting on the doorway when I heard footsteps in the hallway. Sure enough his form covered the area moments later. He smiled when he saw that I was awake, his face illuminated in a blue glow from the television.

"Hello again, gorgeous," he purred, leaning against the doorjamb casually, as if I had expected him to be here, or invited him in for tea. He crossed his arms, and my eyes settled on a half-eaten apple clutched loosely in one hand. One of _my_ apples. My _premium-grown, organic, perfectly ripe, sinfully delicious, $4.20/lb_, apples.

I rubbed my eyes and sighed. "What time is it?"

"Only four," he stated, raising the apple to his mouth and taking a sloppy bite; a small chunk of flesh fell to the floor, and my eyes followed it, narrowing.

"An hour?" I asked blearily, stretching to further awaken myself. "You couldn't have given me until sunrise _at least_?"

I pushed the covers off and rolled off my bed, crawling the short distance to my dresser. I somehow knew the routine without him having to direct me. I pulled open the bottom drawer and pushed through the mess of fabric. My fingers found a patch of denim and closed around them, yanking them out. When I never received a response I paused and glanced over to him.

He was still just leaning against the doorframe, watching me with a semi-curious expression. He stared at me as he took another big bite of apple, and the soft crack that filled the air hinted at the sweet crispness of the apple; my mouth watered in longing.

"You know…I only buy one apple a week because those are so expensive." I pushed off my shorts and kicked them out of my way. I could feel his eyes on me as I yanked on my jeans, hobbling on one leg while semi-leaning against the wall. That thought sent a perverted jolt through my body. Did he like what he saw?

I turned towards him fully as I finished wrestling them over my hips; I was sure he noticed my fumbling over the zipper and buttons. "So. Where are we going?" I grabbed the bra closest to me and paused, thinking over how to put it on. I glanced at him. "We _are_ going somewhere, aren't we?"

He glanced down to the bra in my hand before meeting my eyes again, what resembled a smirk covering his face. He chucked the remainder of the apple in the waste can by the door and strolled towards me, stopping inches away. He took a long, deep breath and released it slowly, his hands finding the bottom of my shirt and pulling it up and off of me.

I shifted forward as his hands traveled down my arms slowly, the cool leather and soft touch leaving a trail of goose bumps where they roamed. The sudden coldness that washed over me left my nipples rather hard, and he let a thumb brush over one teasingly before continuing down to my hand. He pulled the bra away from me and lifted my arms.

"What makes you think we're going somewhere?" he asked, but his voice was huskier, wanting. He pulled the bra straps over my hands and up my arms, and I realized with a blush that he was dressing me.

"I…I don't know…I just thought—"

"Thought what?" he breathed, ducking his face closer to mine. He licked his lips, and his breath rushed over my face. I could feel myself shaking. He closed the distance and wrapped his arms around me, and for one alarming moment, I thought he was hugging me. And then I felt the ends of my bra meet and hook together. He pulled away slightly, tugging at the straps and adjusting the cups until he thought fit. He licked his lips once quickly in appreciation before grinning. "You might want a shirt on, too. You're likely to draw attention to us that way," he laughed as he stepped away, picking up a backpack and dumping its contents on my bed.

"So we _are_ going out?" I glanced around quickly before picking up a comfortable, light, long sleeve shirt and shaking it out.

He glanced over the contents briefly before replacing them with some essential things—like my jewelry, my watches, and any random clothes he decided would be necessary. I was tugging the shirt down over my stomach when I turned and saw him contemplating my nightstand. I frowned when his hands wrapped around and opened the secret top drawer disguised to look purely ornamental.

He grinned at me when his hand produced a small hand gun. "Ever use it?"

"Once."

"Did it kill him?" he asked excitedly.

I smiled, despite myself. "I really _was_ aiming for his foot."

His grin widened as he headed back over to me. "Couldn't take his life?"

"I just wanted him to hurt," when my own words reached my ears I shivered. Since when was I so dark and cynical?

"Assault with deadly weapon, then? Jail time?"

"No, he didn't rat."

He looked interested by this and signaled for me to continue while he shoved the gun and ammo into the backpack.

"I told him if he left _me_ alone, I would leave him—and that pretty little _tramp_ of his—alone as well. After I shot him in the foot…well…he was a little scared of me," I laughed at that. If that asshole were to see me on the street he would take off the other fucking way. And if I were accompanied by the Joker… A grin spread across my face to match his and he nodded.

"Ready then?"

I held up one finger and rifled through my sock drawer, producing a pinchie and a small sack of weed. Smiling at the fresh bowl that waited for me, (surprises like this were soo appreciated) I explained, "If I'm going to be dealing with you for long periods of time, I'm going to need this." His response was a smile, and I tried to suppress my own as I sparked the green and took the biggest hit I could.

I choked a little as I tried to take the smoke in even more. I let it out quickly, the puff of smoke surrounding us in a pungent, delicious fog. I stifled the cough that threatened to explode through my burning throat. When I was sure I wasn't dying, I glanced from the piece in my hand and the Joker. I looked at him quizzically, and offered him a hit. He smiled and shook his head. Moments later we both burst into laughter.

I shoved the baggie and piece into a pocket of the hoodie I had adorned, and he tossed me the backpack. I swung it over my shoulders without a thought and headed for my shoes. I attempted to work my feet into them without bending over, and had to grab onto the Joker's arm to stay standing. When I finally won the battle, I straightened, finding myself chest-to-chest with him. I took a deep breath, the pot was already doing its job, and he smelled _excellent_.

Finally deciding to cut loose, I lifted my lips up to his and wrapped my arms around his neck. He kissed me back hungrily, and had soon forced his tongue in to wrestle with mine. I moaned against his mouth and dropped my hands to untuck his shirt. We continued kissing as I ran my hands up his hard form underneath his shirt.

When I began unbuttoning him, he broke the kiss. He looked regretful. "We really don't have time, gorgeous," he whispered, tucking his shirt back in.

Oh, right. Duhh. How stupid was I? I turned away, trying to hide the crimson that graced my cheeks.

He brought his lips to my ear quickly. "Don't get me wrong. I'd love to ravish every inch of that body, but, uh…hehe, we've only got minutes left!"

"Minutes?" but he didn't answer me. He was pushing past me and headed towards the kitchen. I followed him and watched as he collected a few knives and a long lighter. "What do you mean minutes?"

"Turn around," he directed as he snatched my hairspray from the bathroom. I did so, and he unzipped my backpack, stuffed the additional items in it, and zipped it up again, spinning me around. He pulled me against him and kissed me roughly. It was brief and demanding, and when he broke away he didn't move, but said darkly, "Following me blindly…" his voice was soft, as if he were talking only to himself. "Stupid, silly girl," he chided, and every nerve buzzed.

"I don't know why I'm doing this," I admitted softly, my hands aching to reach out and touch him.

"I do," he laughed quietly and grabbed my hand, tugging me along behind him. "No time to lose!" he laughed loudly as we bounded down the stairs. When I stopped to lock one of the doors behind us he just laughed loudly and pulled me away.

We had scarcely made it across the street when the block rocked with a loud explosion. His shrill laughter grew to an insane cackle instantly, and his head whipped around, searching for falling debris. I barely noticed the blue van that I was being pulled into as I stared at the apartment building in flames.

The Joker rummaged through his pockets. "That was just your complex," he said, holding out what appeared (obviously) to be a detonator. He pushed the device into my hands. "Finish the job."

I glanced to his expectant smile and couldn't bear to disappoint him. Without a second hesitation, I pushed the button. A massive explosion sounded behind us and the other three levels of my building erupted into flames, effectively causing the whole building to simply collapse. _Probably shouldn't have done that_.

A sudden panic flowed through me. What the fuck did I just _do_? I dug through my pockets and pulled out my pipe and lighter, taking a quick hit to calm my nerves. I was suddenly a lot more aware of the other men in the back of the van with us. I caught the Joker's eye and he gave me a small smile, gesturing to the floor of the van. I sat down and he followed me. We leaned back against the side of the van, and his hand came to rest on the small of my back.

I didn't question his need to blow up my home and all my possessions, instead deciding to snuggle against him slightly, letting my head rest upon his shoulder. His thumb stroked the small patch of bare skin that peeked through between my shirt and my pants. And I found that I had to shift to rid myself of the tingling in my crotch.

He somehow knew why I appeared uncomfortable, for he dropped his lips to my ear. "Naughty girl," he growled quietly, and I hoped his thugs couldn't hear what he was saying to me. "How did I find such a naughty, nasty girl?" He moved his hand up to grip my neck. "Hmm?"

He was obviously awaiting some kind of answer. The pressure on my neck was making me woozy and, worse, horny. I took as big of a breath as I could. "J-just got l-lucky, I guessss," I choked out, and he gave a loud bark of laughter and released his grip. He did, however, leave his hand lying casually over my collar bone. The other hand came up to twirl my hair.

I caught the eye of the man sitting across from me, whose eyes were darting between me, the Joker, and my blonde locks twisted around his finger. He sneered at me, like it was just _obvious_ that I was the Joker's whore or something. And maybe I was. I suppose I hadn't really thought about it.

"Are we going far?" I whispered, making my head comfortable against his shoulder. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I almost smiled when his arms shifted and then one was wrapped around my waist, tugging me fuller against him.

"Not too long," he murmured. I wondered if he ever spoke to other people like that; so softly and, almost, _caring_.

"I'm going to fall asleep," I confided. He laughed and pushed his lips against my temple.

"I'll wake you."

I wondered why he was acting this way—especially in front of all his men. I certainly knew that this wasn't how he really was. He must have been having a _good_ night. My own had been somewhat of a downer, actually. I partied at David's until his girlfriend got home and I got kicked out. I ran into the Joker on my way home. I walked all the way home and then got one hour of sleep before the Joker was waking me. I packed some things, watched my apartment burn and then blew up a fucking _building_. Now I was trapped in a van, going God-knows-where, stuck in the arms of a lovey-dovey Joker in front of his stupid goons. That part alone was embarrassing. And his confusing actions were very frustrating.

I didn't get much time to think about it before I made good on my promise and, quite literally, passed the fuck out.

I awoke briefly as I was pulled from the van and tossed over the Joker's shoulder. Well so much for that gentle streak. Many doors and turns and one elevator later, I was being dropped onto a mattress. He dropped down, hovering over me.

He kissed my lips lightly, and then traveled down my neck briefly. I moaned with a sluggish sort of pleasure and he smiled but pulled away. "You sleep while you can. Plenty of time for that _later_," that promise sent my heart pounding, and I tried to relax and sleep. _While you can_ probably meant that I didn't have that long to rest before we'd be up and out again. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to forget the way my stomach buzzed when his lips met mine.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

I awoke cold and alone. I sat up slowly, glancing around at the grubby room I occupied. We blew up _my _apartment for _this_ piece of crap? But then I remembered all of the Joker's workers, and figured this place was some kind of HQ.

I blindly shoved my hands into the backpack that sat by the mattress, recoiling one quickly when something stung me. A thin red line decorated the back of my right pointer finger, and I recalled the kitchen knives that Joker had packed away the night before. Cussing under my breath, I sifted through the backpack carefully and was glad to find that Joker _had_, in fact, packed a sweatshirt for me. I pulled it on, drowning in the warm, soft fabric contentedly.

I slipped out into the hallway, exploring the upstairs quietly. It appeared we were in a foreclosed Victorian house on the offskirts of Gotham—I knew this area well, having spent many years breaking and entering into these houses. I wondered briefly what would have happened if we had ever stumbled in on an operation such as this. As I realized the truth, I shivered, attempting to push those thoughts from my head.

I crept down the stairs, wincing at every creak and groan. I didn't know _why_ I was being so ninja—it wasn't like I was trying to escape. I just _really_ didn't want to draw attention to myself. I gave a sigh when I discovered him in what looked to be a study, papers strewn about over the desk.

The door was half open, but I paused and knocked on the doorframe. He glanced up and nodded me in with a smile. I gave him a shy smile back and slipped in, closing the door behind me. I settled myself at his side; he stood with his hands resting on the desk, studying the blueprints in front of him.

I blinked and checked out the blueprints once more. Something familiar about the layout… I stared in shock. "That's Gotham Central Mall," I guess I was supposed to have gasped, but the words came out as a dull statement.

"Mm," he acknowledged, scribbling over the blueprints.

"What are you doing?" I asked curiously, trying to make sense of the notes he was scribbling down.

"What do you know about structural engineering?"

I looked at him. "N-nothing?" I responded, taken aback by the odd question.

His lips twitched upward in a small smile, as if he expected this. The scars on either side of his mouth widened and curled the smile into something hideous and cruel. "I….am…" he started slowly and paused, staring at the picture for a moment before placing an 'X' in two more places. "…_trying_ to figure out where to best place the explosives to effectively crush this materialistic Mecca."

"Have you had _any_ sleep?"

He shook his head silently, eyes never leaving the plans in front of him. Feeling bold, I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled myself up against him. "You should really sleep," I informed him softly. I rubbed his back slowly, and he slowly brought his hands to mine and peeled me off of him gently.

"I have work to do."

Feeling embarrassed and slightly shot-down, I tried, "Can I help with anything?"

"Just make yourself scarce," he muttered darkly.

Completely positive that his earlier good mood had run out, I retreated silently and took to wandering through the house. It wasn't long before I was back to the door of the study.

I didn't even have to make my presence known; he gave a slightly exasperated sigh and motioned to a chair. "Sit down and shut up."

I smiled as I took my seat across the desk from him.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**That's enough for now mainly because I've lost the will to write and partly because I just want to get a chapter up to thank you guys for all the reviews! Getting reviews really help me stay motivated to write, and this one came out pretty quick thanks to all of your guys' comments/hope in me. Thanks! Hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Consistently Inconsistent

It seemed my presence alone must have been annoying him, because I only sat for five, quiet, still minutes before he told me to get lost again.

I heard him talking to someone on the phone as I strolled out into the hallway once more. I wandered back to the room I'd woken in, and familiarized myself with it. The dresser/vanity was bare and, surprisingly, clean. I tried each of the drawers, only to find every one empty. I stood in front of the full length mirror—the old fashioned kind with the legs so you can twist and turn it. I twirled in front of it for a moment, goofing around, before I recalled my friend stashed away in my pocket.

I wrestled up my sweatshirt to the pocket of my hoodie and fished out my piece and lighter. As I lit it and took a hit, I glanced back to the mirror. The reflecting image unsettled me. How had I come this far? I started out with an almost consistently comfortable life, and a hell of a lot of potential. Now I'm standing in some deserted house—the Joker's _head quarters_—smoking pot, and waiting for something exciting to happen. Seriously, what the fuck? And, sure enough, an instant later my thoughts turned to:

_I wonder how hard it would be to score some pot around here_.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

I had discovered a hairbrush sitting by the sink in the adjoining bathroom. I inspected it carefully and decided it looked clean enough. Therefore, I was standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom brushing my hair when he entered.

He was humming some tune unfamiliar to me, and I was slightly shocked (but secretly pleased) when his arms wrapped around my middle. He pulled me back against him and brought his lips to my ear.

"Ready for some fun, gorgeous?" He pushed his lips beneath my ear, and a shiver ran from the top of my skull to the back of my heels. He laughed softly. "I take it that's a yes."

"What are we doing?" I murmured, fighting to stay coherent while his fingers were coaxing me into a stupor. They swirled in complex patterns across my stomach.

"Inconsequential," he responded, pulling away. "Get your shoes on, we're leaving."

"Where are we going?" I tried, plopping down on the mattress and pulling on my shoes.

"Don't know yet," he laughed when I stared at him.

"Isn't that a crucial part of the plan?" I asked him, standing up and following him down the stairs.

"What makes you think I have a plan?"

Finally frustrated by his unhelpful answers, I followed him silently out the back door and into a van.

There were two other men in the back of the van with us, and both were wearing clown masks and wielding deadly looking guns. I eyed them warily, and Joker noticed.

"Ever fire a real one?" he asked me, indicating the semi-automatics.

"No," I smiled, shaking my head. "Can't say I've ever had the chance."

"Well," he started, digging into a duffel bag next to him. "Your luck is about to change." He handed me a mass of metal, and I twisted it in my arms for a minute before finding a comfortable way to hold it. Even then, I wasn't getting it right, because the clowns across from me were looking at each other, and the clown next to me was staring at my hands, smiling.

Trying my best not to feel embarrassed, I took a seat in the corner of the van. The Joker sat in the corner adjacent to me, gazing at me through dark rings. "How old are you, sweet cheeks?"

I frowned at the derogatory pet name. "Do you _know_ my name?" I couldn't recall ever giving it to him, though I was sure if he had found my apartment he had discovered my identity.

"What does _that_ matter?"

The clowns across from me laughed. I continued staring into the Joker's eyes; he didn't give any reaction to the laughter, looking at me intently.

Something passed between us and I understood it all perfectly. He was warning me; he could call me what he wanted, _when_ he wanted, _he_ was in charge, _I _needn't ask questions, and _nothing_ meant _anything_ unless _he_ thought so.

It was the most insightful and knowledgeable ten seconds of my life.

"I'm twenty-one," I answered softly.

"Been out of high school a few years, then," he stated, and he crossed over to kneel in front of me.

"Yeah…seems like longer," I told him as he pulled the gun out of my hands.

He repositioned the weapon, wrapping my hands in the appropriate places. "Ever want to go back?" he asked. As he spoke, the van pulled to a stop.

He obviously didn't want an answer from me, because he was dialing a number on a cell phone. "Secure? Right."

He snapped the phone shut and turned to the other two men. "You know what to do," he stated. They each nodded once. "Go-_uhh_," he commanded softly.

They each hopped out of the van and swung the doors shut. I got a glimpse of the drive-around at the front entrance to my old high school, and suddenly realized what was going on. I turned to him, and he smiled. I knew my eyes were wide, and I tried to conceal my shock, but when I heard him laugh I knew there was no hiding it. I was alarmed, _scared_. _What_ were we doing here?

He reached over and hit something on the gun. "Safety," he reminded me, his voice mocking. "_Relax_, beautiful," he urged, running a finger down my jaw line slowly. "You're too cute for worry lines."

He moved past me and swung the doors open once again, motioning me out. I followed him, but before we took three steps he stopped and spun around, whipping out a clown mask similar to the ones his goons were wearing. "Might want to slip that on," he suggested, and I did. My blonde locks were pulled back into a ponytail, but my bangs still fell over my eyes. The mask pushed the hair against my forehead, reaching to below my eyes.

It felt odd walking through the high school hallways once again; partly because the hallways were completely deserted. This would have been normal any school day during class time, but today there were no stragglers. No bathroom breakers, no ditchers, no janitors, no teachers. We walked down the hallway, his steps sharp and confident, mine fumbling and unsure. The soles of our shoes slapped across the linoleum and echoed off of the pale walls. No lessons or lectures drifted into the hall to meet us as we passed the classrooms. The only sounds were our shoes, and the clanking of metal on metal as the Joker ran his hand along the padlocks on the wall of lockers. I looked around as we walked. The blue lockers didn't seem to have as many chips and imperfections. They must have painted in the last two years.

We continued on until we reached the office. He swung the door open and strolled in, me following swiftly behind. Instinctively, I shut the door and looked around. There were two clowns standing in the office, guns pointed at the secretary and the principal. I felt bad for poor Mrs. Worthers. You'd think being sixty and answering phones for a school couldn't possibly land you in a hostage situation. She sat at her chair now, but her eyes were closed and her lips were moving silently. One hand was fisted at her throat, and I knew she was clutching the small silver cross that she always wore.

I was distracted from Mrs. Worthers by the Joker's voice over the intercom. "Good afternoon South Gotham High," he greeted jovially. "As I'm sure you've noticed by now, each classroom has a, uh, _special _visitor. Don't be afraid, they're here to help you _learn_."

I studied the principal. I knew him by picture, but not by name. He started here the year after I left. He was of average height and slightly overweight. He wore a cheesy jacket over a cheap button up shirt. His slacks were too short, exposing two different black socks and out-of-date brown leather shoes. I could feel myself sneering in disgust. The fucking _principal _of the school, and he goes to work looking like _that_? I watched as he wiped his sweaty forehead and adjusted his collar. The clown next to him nudged him with his gun in disapproval, and he instantly settled his nervous fidgeting.

"If you could all just sit _tight_ and let my boys do their job, things will go a _lot_ easier. I've got to make a phone call to the mayor now, if you'll all excuse me. It's a fairly important matter."

His laugh was cut off as he switched off the intercom, and he was still laughing as he picked up the phone and dialed a number.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and I jumped. The next sounds were loud cracks as my gun fired, and a piercing scream (Mrs. Worthers, I figured); it was as if the gun controlled my arms. They swung around _violently_. Bullets shattered through the glass windows at the front of the office, right next to the door. I decided that I didn't like this kind of gun.

When all was quiet for a moment, I chanced a glance to the Joker. He was staring at my incredulously, the phone still to his ear.

"What the hell?" the clown responsible for startling me asked angrily.

"I can't see anything!" I defended myself, shifting the mask on my face. "My hair is in my eyes."

The Joker continued to stare, but soon started speaking into the phone. "May-yer _puh_leeease," he requested. "Mister Mayor! Good to hear from ya. Your pal, _Joker_, here, if you didn't know. So, I'm at the _high school_ right now, and I'm a bit disappointed with the level of the _test scores_ here. I've researched the students and teachers and decided that there's just no hope in bringing them up," he sounded distraught, and I was glad that the mask covered my smile. "But _good_ news, Mayor, good news for you, because I've decided to take this little problem…_off of your hands_. I'll just go ahead and blow up the school, and we can start again from scratch."

He nudged the receptionist and she jumped up from her chair and scuttled to the corner. Joker sat down and leaned back, resting his feet on the desk. He looked comfortable, cool and confident, and I found myself both jealous and turned on. Turned on. _How _could someone make this look _hot_? I shook the thoughts out and tried to focus on his words so I would know what was going down.

"Oops, one second, Mayor," he covered the mouthpiece and turned to the door, suddenly remembering the other clown that had come in. "What's the status?"

"All set."

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Get them out," he didn't wait for a response before he turned away and put the phone back up to his ear. "Now I've just been informed that there's a bomb in every classroom. (There was a terrified sob from Mrs. Worthers) I'm going to blow up this school and everyone in it iiinnnnnn…thirty minutes. I suggest you get Gotham's finest over here quickly if there's any hope in saving these kids. _Oh_," he added, almost as an afterthought, "oh, and I've forgotten_ which_ high school I'm at, so you might want to send a few officers to each one just to be safe. Great day, Mayor."

He dropped the phone onto the receiver and stood, giving a slow stretch. Come on toots, boys, we're outta here."

The power cut as we made our way out. There was a clown in the entryway rigging something up. I glanced at him curiously as we passed.

"Rigging the exits," the breathed next to me, and a hand came to rest on my lower back as we walked out to the van. "Good job keeping your cool."

I pulled the mask off and tried to pretend that the flush that rested in my cheeks was from the heat, and not from embarrassment. "He startled me. My finger slipped. I couldn't see," I rattled off the excuses quickly, and I could tell he wasn't interested. Before we got into the van he stopped me and flipped the safety back on. I scowled, and he pushed me into the van.

"No time to waste. This place is blowing in a few."

"I thought you said thirty minutes?" I asked as I shifted around and made myself comfortable on the floor.

"Yeah…" he said slowly, taking a seat next to me. "Bad memory, you see. It's the _mall _that's going to blow in thirty minutes. The school goes in five."

I thought about that. Searching every high school in a city of 10 million people. They could never find the school in time, and while they were there looking for survivors, the mall would blow up halfway across town. It was horrific, but genius. I almost smiled, but stopped myself.

We didn't travel for long. Just a few turns later I was being directed out of the van and into a very tall building. We were in what looked to be the lobby of some office building, and everyone stood frozen, gaping at our small group.

"Don't mind us," the Joker said loudly, walking over to the elevators. "Just here for the view," he jabbed the call button to the elevator, and the doors opened instantly. "Oh, and the policemen are a little busy right now, so I wouldn't bother them."

We stepped into the service elevator, which seemed smaller than a regular elevator. With our group of five, I felt very claustrophobic. I was sandwiched between the driver, behind me, and the Joker, right in front and face to face with me. My heart hammered against his chest, he looked down at me, smirking. I was just trying not to kiss him.

We finally made it to the top, and step out and right up to a set of stairs. We took them up and, since I had somehow managed to come out front, I had the pleasure of pushing the heavy door to the rooftop. The driver of our van stood behind me, and leaned passed me to push a hand against it. It groaned open and I slipped through, smiling my thanks.

The men pulled off their masks as they filed out onto the roof, and my stomach flopped as I realized that I hadn't worn mine inside the building. What if they got footage of me? Could I be found out? I almost panicked and threw myself off of the building. But then I remembered who was standing next to me, and my nerves settled. Who was to mess with me while I was in the Joker's good favor?

But then, that was _if_ I was in the Joker's good favor. If the last two days had shown me anything it was that the Joker was inconsistent. Consistently so.

I almost didn't notice his arm around my shoulder as he guided me to the edge of the roof. I glanced down, stories away from the pavement, and gulped. The Joker's arm dropped from my shoulders to my waist and pulled me closer, whispering in my ear, "Don't worry, I won't let you fall," I felt myself automatically easing at the sound of his voice, soft and protective. Then he nipped my earlobe before breathing darkly, "Unless I decide to push you." I pulled out of his grasp slowly and put a couple feet between us; he just laughed maniacally.

Then an explosion ripped through the city, and flames erupted half a mile in front of us, at the high school. I wondered if any police men had gotten any people out, and realized that they probably hadn't even arrived. I also recalled that all of the entries had been rigged to blow.

Joker just gave an insane cackle, jumping up and down as he watched. We didn't stay long. Soon the Joker was ushering me back down the stairs, and into the cramped service lift, through the lobby and back to the van. We drove quickly for a few moments, and then pulled up in front of a hotel.

"You want to get a room _now_?" I teased, jabbing his stomach playfully. He snatched my wrist in an almost painful vice, but smiled at me.

It was the same routine as he went directly to the service lift up to the roof. This elevator was bigger, giving us more space between us. At one point, I began to lose feeling in my hand. I yanked out of his grasp, and while I was busy inspecting and rubbing my wrist, his hand wrapped around my throat and pinned me to the wall. His men didn't react in the least, and I had no choice but to stare directly into his fiery gaze.

"I don't like this _attitude_ you've developed," he ground out darkly. "And I _don't_ like how quickly it set in. You've gotten _too _comfortable _too _fast, doll face. And when we get back you're gonna prove your worth."

I was saved by the doors opening with a soft _swoosh_, for the Joker peeled himself off of me quickly and walked out onto the roof. I followed a few feet behind him, and when he stopped at the edge, I only hesitated for a second before stepping up next to him.

He didn't look at me, but his expression still looked sour, annoyed. I chewed my lip for a moment while I thought. Then I gave a small smile and asked, "So how many bombs did you end up with?"

The corners of his lips twitched, but he stared straight ahead darkly. "Two hundred and eighty-four."

I gave a low whistle, shaking my head. I was thinking of something else to say, when a rumble shook through our building. My head snapped up to the dark plumes of smoke about a mile away. For a moment we couldn't see anything, and then the dust settled and you could see flames licking at the rubble. A parking lot of hundreds of abandoned cars stretched out beyond the destruction, and instead of feeling horribly guilty, a sick satisfaction settled in my core.

I glanced beside me, and he had relaxed visibly, the ghost of a smile on his painted face.

"Look at _that_," I breathed softly in admiration. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw him smile. And then, seconds later, he weaved his fingers between mine softly.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**That's it for now… feel free to send me reviews and really let me know what you think! Nothing inspires me to keep at it more than people telling me what works and what doesn't. And if I ever slip out of character for the Joker, **_**please**_** let me know right away.**

**I really couldn't resist the hand-holding at the end here. It just seemed like a perfect moment for the two of them, and even though it seems really gentle and lovey-dovey, I like to throw in a few moments of that here and there so when he goes off the handle it makes him look even **_**crazier**_**. Bye guys! Hope to update soon!**


	4. Out with the Old

The ride back was silent. We all slumped in the back of the van, contemplating everything we had just accomplished. As we neared the outskirts of town where the Victorians stood abandoned, a growing unease clawed at my stomach. I pushed the image of the hundreds of empty cars out of my head and concentrated on why I should be feeling nervous.

I caught the Joker flexing his fingers out of the corner of my eye, and for a moment I was pinned in the elevator, his hand around my throat. Attitude. He didn't like my attitude. And I was going to "prove my worth", whatever that meant. I knew it couldn't be anything good and probably wasn't something that I would walk away from unscathed.

I shuddered as demented thoughts ran through my head, and caught a grin from him. I pushed my eyes to the wall in front of me, but couldn't calm the fingers that drummed restlessly on the floor of the van. The soft clicks of my short fingernails were the only sound for awhile, and then he spoke, a slow, lazy observation.

"Somethin' _bothering_ you, sweet cheeks?" the amusement in his tone was mingled with something else…something _dangerous_, and I couldn't stop my eyes from sliding over to look at him. He was leaning casually against the side adjacent to me, his forearms resting on his raised knees. He twisted a knife in one hand idly, and the casualness of it made me shudder so hard that my head hit the wall behind me. He noticed—I know he did—but he didn't react in any way. He just sat there, eyes fixed on the toy in his hand, chewing on his bottom lip.

I had just barely glanced away when he spoke again, his voice, low and demanding. "I beli_eve_ I asked you a _question_-_uh_," he was staring at me from hooded eyes, still twisting that damn knife.

I cleared my throat as softly as I could while I shook my head, "No, I'm fine," I responded, but my voice was weak and unconvincing. I grimaced inwardly; why couldn't I just lie and have it sound _somewhat_ believable?

He didn't press the matter, and silence resumed for the rest of the ride.

We finally arrived, and the Joker was quick to pull up next to me as we hopped out of the van. "Up to your room," he commanded softly. He didn't wait for a response, but pulled ahead of me, reaching the door quickly. He was planning something.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

I was sitting on the mattress and leaning against the wall behind me when he came in. I had my legs spread apart, working on packing a bowl. I was pushing my green into a neat circle on the piece of paper below it, which was a letter from my mom, ironically, telling me to stay out of trouble. I had happened across it in one of my jeans pockets.

Why had I placed it there in the first place? Was some higher power reminding me of this letter to snap me out of the harmful spiral I've been riding? Was there a chance I could leave the Joker behind me, mentally, physically and emotionally unscathed?

My bowl was loaded now, but I just held it in my hand, staring past the weed on the letter to the words on the paper, deep in concentration. After many cause-and-effect scenarios, rationalizations and technical analysis, I concluded by highest probability that I had received and read the letter when I was chopped, thought about how hungry I was and how excellent fried chicken sounded, and absently stuffed the note into my pocket on my way out the door.

I was snapped out of my thought process when his hand closed around mine. My heart jumped and simultaneously fell as he pulled away instantly, clutching my bowl.

My first instinct was a small smile. I held up my signature pink lighter, "You want the green?" I asked in surprise. I realized a moment later that he was looking moderately _serious_.

"You can't do this right now. Downstairs, now," he slipped the bowl into his pocket.

_This is it_. I thought, and my stomach tightened. I was "proving my worth". He followed close behind me, and the only thing that kept me from outright bolting was his (most likely unconsciously) semi-reassuring hand on my shoulder as he guided me to a room near the back of the house.

Everyone was in there, and the Joker deposited me just outside of the center of the circle. I looked around. It looked to be some sort of lounge, except all of the furniture had been moved to the four walls, leaving a big open space in the center. Everyone was standing in a circle. I felt my stomach jump, as if it were about to climb up my esophagus and jump out of my mouth. I knew it.

I was fighting someone.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

I watched the Joker with wary eyes. "What's the _delay_?" he was asking one of his goons.

The man said something back to him, leaning in slightly, as if it were secret.

The Joker hissed something back, and I watched with growing interest as a knife appeared in his hand.

His movements were slow, deliberate. He took one small step forward. He reached out and took a bunch of the man's shirt into his fist. He raised the knife up to the man's eye level, pointing at him accusatorily, speaking lowly. The knife was getting closer to the man's face, and I swallowed, finding my throat dry.

Suddenly, there was someone else at the Joker's side, breathless. "She's here," I heard him say.

And the Joker pointed and said something to him, then turned to the man still in his clutch. He considered the man for a moment, probably weighing the man's incompetence with whatever he was supposed to have done over how useful he may be in future situations. He smacked his lips and released the man, who I noticed suddenly in astonishment, had been partially lifted off of the ground. _That_ explained those horrified eyes.

He then turned around slowly, and looked at me anticipation and triumph. I knew then that what happened next was a victory for him either way, and I was really wishing he had just let me have _one hit_. I had fallen quickly after the explosion of the mall, and the reality around me was looking too bleak to handle.

My heart started hammering in the same instant that my brain registered he was walking over to me. I felt heavy and useless as he pulled me into the center of the circle.

He turned to me, and placed his hands on my shoulders. His head was tilted low, looking down at me with a sincere expression. "I want to keep you around," he started, his voice only slightly carrying. "You're fun to play with. But, like I said, that _attitude_ isn't. Cutting. I_t_-_uh_."

I swallowed and licked my dry lips. He grinned, chuckling softly, in the strangest manner I had ever heard, "A-ha-ha-ha-a-he-a-ho-a-he-ha-ha. You see, what you need is a good moral _cleansing_. Good _mental_ cleansing too. You gotta get it in your head what I've been saying all along," he paused, smiling, and ducked his head closer to mine. "And you know what that is, don't you?"

His lips were close to mine, and as scared as I was in that moment, I would have closed the space between us if everyone hadn't been staring at us. Instead, I focused on answering his question, which I _did_ know the answer too. I felt a flutter in my stomach. I had this shining opportunity to impress him, and I was going to take it!

The only problem was, I _was_ slightly terrified at that moment, so my mouth wasn't working as well as it should have been. I _could_ have given some long definition or maybe a good quote from the news. Something to really show my smarts. What I managed out was a soft, dead, "No rules."

He laughed, and I wasn't sure exactly what the reason was. But soon he pulled away from me. "I need to break your mentality," he said, twisting around to stand behind me, again placing his hands of my shoulders, tightly. Holding me in place.

In case I struggled.

"But I understand!" I protested. Inside me, anxiety was a wild beast, clawing at me until I found myself slipping into panic. What was about to happen?

He laughed. "Not _that_ mentality," and he motioned to someone and pointed to the circle, then his hand returned to my shoulder. I understood why a moment later, when four people were brought to stand in front of me.

Each person had their hands bound behind their backs, and duct tape over their mouths. Each was escorted by a big, burly henchman of the Joker's. Each shared the same terrified and confused expression.

And each person was a member of my family.

I felt myself stiffen, and his arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me back against him. "Relax, I'm not going to make you kill them," he assured me softly. He then placed a kiss on my neck slowly, that sensitive spot below my ear that forced my eyes to close and my head to tilt. His lips lingered there longer than they usually would have, and by the way my father's eyes narrowed I guessed that it was a show for him, and bet that while his lips were pressed against my flesh, he was staring into my father's eyes.

"Now," he started, raising his voice, so that it filled the room. "If you're going to belong to me, you're going to belong to _me_," he pulled me closer, "and _no one else_," he gestured out to my family, on their knees before us.

_If you're going to belong to me_. What must they think has been going on with him and me?

"Why are they here?" I asked him outright, tired of his drawing this out to build anticipation.

"They're here to die," he informed me casually, as if that was what I should have expected.

My mother sobbed, and a strange feeling twisted in my gut. My eyes trailed down the row of them, arranged as if they were in line for the firing squad. First to my father, who was staring at the Joker fiercely, then to my older brother, whose head hung in defeat. He tilted his head slightly, and I caught sight of some red mixed into his light brown locks. My sobbing, shaking mother was next, but she wasn't staring and crying at me. Instead, she was turned to my younger sister. A fierce annoyance swept up inside of me, before dying quickly as I studied Elizabeth. She had only turned sixteen two months ago. I remember a phone call I received from her only a week ago, in which she informed me of her first kiss with a boy she liked.

She was going to miss so much life. Sixteen was too young.

"You see," his voice brought me back, and I was suddenly more aware of being wrapped in his arms. He rested his chin on my shoulder casually. "You just have to pick the _order_ in _which_ they die. Not a bad job at all, really."

Elizabeth looked up at me, pleading. I didn't know how to help her. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say.

The only thing I knew, was that I couldn't do this sober.

I turned in his arms, looking up at him in desperation. I brought my lips close to him. "Please," I breathed softly, desperately, "please just let me take a couple of rips. Please, I can't do this without it." I felt tears stinging my eyes, and a surge of disgust for myself rose up in me.

He didn't answer me, but turned me around to face my doomed family once again.

I looked at them for a very long moment before swallowing down the lump in my throat. My voice still came out hoarse. "Elizabeth."

The man restraining my sister swiftly pulled a knife across her throat. I blinked and looked away. _At least it was quick_.

"Why her first?" he breathed in my ear curiously.

"She was sixteen," I breathed back, equally quiet. "There's no reason for her to witness this."

He turned me around so I was, once again, facing him. He searched my eyes for a moment before nodding in approval and reaching into his pocket. He pushed my bowl into my hand, and reached for my hip. His fingers dug into my front pocket and retrieved my lighter. Pushing that into my other hand, he released me. "One," he said, and I wouldn't have dared take more.

I lit up, feeling slightly guilty having to do this in front of my parents, and took one, long rip, holding the smoke deep in my chest. I smiled slightly and moved closer to the Joker. He gave a grin, knowing what I was up to, and closed the space between our faces, meeting me halfway.

As I released the smoke slowly, evenly, he received it, taking a deep breath. Our lips brushed together slightly, and the jolt that hit my stomach was inevitable. He smiled and pressed his lips fully against me when we had finished, and I heard a struggle behind us.

I turned to find my father, pulling against his captor, eyes narrowed and zoned in on the Joker. Remember the situation at hand, I regarded my family. I was scratching my head when my hand brushed against an object above my ear. A cigarette. _Excellent_. I thought, pulling it from behind my ear and lighting it as I thought.

I took a long drag before pulling the cigarette away and gesturing to my mother. The second man was just as swift as the first had been, and I thought a quick 'Rest in Peace' as my mother's body slid to the floor.

As I opened my mouth, my brother finally raised his head and looked at me. I shut my mouth, finding I could no longer say his name. I nodded, and he was gone. I reminded myself of the Joker behind me. This would put me in with him, for good. I kept faith in hoping that since he was going through all of this trouble, he would keep me around for awhile. Unfortunately, I _did_ know that he would probably throw me away fairly soon. He didn't seem the type for a long term commitment.

Resigning to this knowledge, I nodded again apathetically and watched my father die. When I got tired of watching the crimson pool around him I turned around. The Joker was close behind me, and I only had to lean forward to close the distance between our lips.

I squeezed my eyes shut and wrapped my arms around his neck. I couldn't help the smile when his arms snaked around my waist, pulling me closer into him. I didn't care about the tons of people witnessing this. I just kissed the Joker passionately, with as much heat as I could manage. I _had_ to keep him interested in me. I had just ordered my whole family dead, and I had to at least be proactive about staying alive.

He pulled away, chuckling. "Clean this up," he ordered to no one in particular before taking my hands and leading me out of the room. I followed him back up the stairs, and to the door next to mine. I wasn't surprised that we had neighboring rooms. I followed him inside, instinctively closing the door behind us.

I was up against it in a flash, the Joker's lips clamped securely over mine; his hands ran up and down my sides, from my underarms to my hips and back again repeatedly. I pulled away slightly to lick his bottom lip, and he quickly pulled my tongue into his mouth. I moaned when it met his, and finally found myself able to do something with my useless arms. I pulled his trench coat off of him and tossed it aside, starting to work on the buttons of his vest, while his hands explored my bum. My fingers faltered when he spanked me unexpectedly, and I pushed myself closer to him with desire.

He pulled my shirt over my head swiftly, somehow barely breaking our kiss. His lips traveled down my neck hastily, tasting the flesh but eager for something more. He sighed against my breasts softly in content before claiming them with his lips; his fingers worked quickly on releasing them from my bra.

My head was spinning, and I knew it wasn't just from the pot. A sigh escaped me when his tongue brushed over my nipple, and I clawed at his chest, feebly trying to remove his clothes. I wanted his skin. _Now_. I fiercely pushed him away and started frantically with the tie. He aided me, chuckling, when I only managed to constrict it. I tossed it aside and started eagerly at his shirt. Within seconds it seemed it was opened and shed, and soon our pants hand been kicked aside as well.

He began to kneel down, and suddenly everything slowed: his hands trailed down my sides, his lips pressed softly against my tummy before pulling away. He was staring up into my eyes, and I couldn't help but to stare right back. His fingers hooked the straps of my underwear and inched them down, and the soft fabric clung to my wet entrance. His eyes flickered to my damn underwear and then back up to my eyes, licking his lips and grinning the whole time.

I felt my legs were turning to Jell-O as he pushed them apart and brought his face to my pussy. He inhaled deeply before slipping his tongue in quickly to give me a taste. He pulled up and smiled at me, and I ached for him. His erection had been freed with his pants, and now brushed my inner thigh. The hands that had come to rest on my bum now hoisted my hips up, and I instinctively pulled myself closer and wrapped my legs around him, crossing my ankles.

He entered me fully in one swift movement, and the feeling of him hard inside of me sent my head against the door behind me. That pain almost made everything else more pleasurable, and I cried out when the Joker pulled out of me partially and slammed back in. I desperately attempted to sync my hip movements with his thrusts, and succeeded after a moment. His brought his head down quickly and bit my neck, sending my eyes open in shock and pleasure.

My eyes spotted the bed, just a foot away from us. Just a few steps. And the Joker was fucking me against the door, because he needed me _that much_. I felt a sharp thrill at realizing that, and worked to meet his thrusts with more force.

We grunted against each other, kissing and gasping, and clutching each other for dear life. We bit and licked and sucked until we both came together, holding to each other while our orgasms shook us. He stumbled back and over to the bed, and we collapsed, snuggling into each other. I sighed in content as I melted back into him.

"I hate to tell you, but we, uh, we can't sleep right now. Got stuff to do," he whispered in my ear.

I grimaced. No sleep? I was stoned and just had sex! I was tired! I felt a sly grin creep across my lips as I thought of a way to wake myself up. I turned to him and gave him a deep, slow, smoldering kiss. "How about a shower?" I whispered huskily against his lips. I felt him smile and nod.

He pulled me into the bathroom, and as we waited for the water to warm, he pulled me against him and kissed me gently.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**There, I finally threw some sex in for you guys =P. Please review and let me know!**


	5. F is for Fuckup

I was too tired, having hardly any sleep since meeting the Joker three days ago. He pushed a gun into my hand, and I protested weakly.

"You recall what happened last time you gave me this damn thing, right? I don't think I should be handling something like this."

He just looked at me pointedly, silently telling me to shut up before he _made_ me shut up.

I sighed and checked to make sure the safety was on before I entered the van. There was already one clown in there, and he looked at me warily. I figured it was the one that I had almost killed, and smiled at him sheepishly.

"Where are we going?" I asked, even though I was about 95% sure he wouldn't tell me.

"_You_ are going to prove your worth," he answered, pulling the doors shut behind him as he entered. "_Drive-_vuh," he ordered the driver, and we took off instantly.

"I thought I already did that," I responded, frowning. Didn't killing my family mean anything to him? And then it hit me.

No. It didn't.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

We pulled up in front of a bank, and the sound of the engine died. Everything was quiet. No body moved. I chanced a glance to the Joker, who was studying from the corner of his eye. I could almost see the wheels in his head turning.

"It all you," he said after a second, nodding to me.

I just sat there, staring at him.

"You _deaf_ all of a sudden?" he growled. I shook my head. "Then _go_."

I only risked one last glance at him as I motioned for the other three clowns in the van to get out.

I followed them up the steps to the building, and my legs wobbled below me like they were nothing but pipe cleaners. I tried to make my steps confident and commanding as we swung the doors opened and filed inside, but I was sure I looked exactly how I felt: Like I wanted to be anywhere else but there.

I was sure the customers and tellers thought that I was some kind of hostage that the robbers had drug inside with them for some reason, and not the one who was supposed to be in charge of the whole fucking job.

I watched as the clowns instructed our hostages to keep their hands in the air, and stood by idly, quite useless. When I caught a glimpse of him walking up the steps through the glass doors, I felt a surge of control rush through me.

"Get to the vault," I instructed two of the clowns. I flipped the safety off on my gun. "We can handle the front."

The two nodded and took off, and I was just beginning to speak as he swung the door open and strode in.

"Alright listen up!" I tried to make my voice as loud and harsh as I could. "Any funny business and you'll be getting a piece of lead in your face, courtesy of my little semi-automatic friend here!" I called out, raising the gun slightly so they could see what I was wielding. He came to stand next to me, and I dropped my voice to a murmur. "There's too many people. What if they fight?"

"Kill them," he said simply.

"We're outnumbered," I pointed out. I glanced around the bank and tried to swallow the lump that lodged itself in my throat. "_Considerably_," I choked out.

"You _have_ a gun."

I turned to him. "You never meant for me to succeed at this. Three men and _me _to take on _Gotham First National_?" It all made sense: _he_ could get out. _He _always had a way. _We_ were disposable. It didn't _matter_ if we robbed the bank or not; this was just a test. To see if I was _worth_ keeping around. I wanted to smack him.

Something flickered across his face, and for a moment he looked almost impressed. "You're absolutely right."

It was then that the sound reached my ears. Sirens. My heart raced even faster. I glanced around; many of the people in the bank had expressions of relief on their faces. That made me angry.

I snarled and pulled the gun up, firing blindly. Two people went down, and numerous screams sounded. "You think _they_ can _save _you?" I spat at them. Red and blue flashed across the white marble floor and walls of the bank. "I could have _all _of you dead before they even _try_ to negotiate with me!"

"This is the Gotham P.D. Stay calm, and tell us what you want!"

The Joker laughed next to me, but I wasn't sure if it was at me, or at _them_, for trying to appease me. It was probably at me. I glanced next to me, and he was sitting on the counter at a teller's window, legs dangling and kicking absentmindedly.

"Are you going to help me?" I hissed at him.

He smiled and raised his hands. "This is _aaalll_ you."

I huffed. "Well what am I supposed to do?"

He slid off of the counter where he was perched and walked over to me. Placing a hand on my shoulder firmly, he leaned in towards me. "_Rob the bank_," he hinted.

I glared at him and pulled away, turning back to the crowd. I killed three more people, _messily_, mostly just to make some noise and hear some screams. To let _them_ know that I _couldn't_ be negotiated with.

A phone rang, and if my finger had been anywhere _near _the trigger I was sure I would have accidentally fired again. I glanced at the Joker, unsure of what action to take. He just stared back at me blankly, waiting.

I made my way over to the phone hesitantly. My eyes dodged to all of the hostages around me; I felt tooootally paranoid, like someone was going to try to attack me at any moment. More paranoid than I was when I was with the Joker. I stopped in my tracks, realizing that. Huh. Well, _that's_ fucked up.

The sharp trill of the phone brought me back to the situation at hand. I closed the distance between me and the phone swiftly, and hesitated slightly before answering. My hand hovered over the receiver as my eyes slid to the Joker. I took a breath and snatched up the receiver, silencing the harsh ringing. "Talk."

"Yes, may I ask who I'm speaking to?" a male voice responded promptly.

"Possibly. Who is this?" from the corner of my eye I could see the Joker moving towards me.

"This is Commissioner Jim Gordon. Who am I speaking to?"

I ignored the question, instead covering the mouthpiece and turning to the clown next to me. "It's the Commissioner!" I gasped in sarcastic excitement. He smiled.

"Is anyone hurt?" Gordon tried when I never responded.

I looked all around the front of the bank. "Hmm, nooope," I answered slowly, finishing my search. "No, everyone's either alive or dead in here."

He faltered slightly when he spoke again, and I felt the same sick satisfaction that I felt watching the mall burn swell up inside me. "How many people are in there with you?"

I shrugged, though I'm not sure why. "Dunno. Haven't bothered to count," the Joker's light hand on the small of my back gave me another stab of confidence, and I suddenly realized that I was handling this all wrong. "Listen," I said roughly, before the Commissioner had a chance to ask me another question, "This is how things are gonna go down. Your cops so much as _move_ without _my_ permission and I'll blow this whole fucking bank sky high. If _Batman_ makes an appearance, the bank goes. My boys and I? We're walking out of here. No interference, no funny business. Anything happens to us—" I gave a soft chuckle "—well, I'm sure I don't have to tell you what happens."

It was scary. It didn't even feel like the words were coming from me. I felt like I was back in high school, on stage, reading from a script. I had to admit though…I sounded pretty badass…and I _loved _it. I hoped I was making Joker proud. The other two men had finally returned, lugging a few large duffel bags in behind them. I motioned for the third to help them, feeling confident in handling the front.

"You got all that," I met gazes with Joker and smirked slightly, "Cooooommissioner?"

A slight clearing of the throat and then, "Yes."

I hung up the phone without another word and pointed to the others, who were depositing more bags to the growing pile. "We gotta dip, boys. Grab what you can carry."

The three went back for one more trip, and I turned to Joker as soon as they were gone. My reserve was slipping faster and faster, and I was starting to feel panicky again.

"We have to _go_," I hissed urgently.

He just grinned at me. "You were doing so well. _Enjoy this_."

I licked my dry lips and flexed my fingers restlessly, heaving a sigh. I began to pace while I waited for them to return so we could finally bounce. On a whim, I whipped out my bowl and lighter and smoked it up right there.

Slender fingers wrapped around my wrist tightly and tugged me back. "You're annoying me," he breathed in my ear. "Relax. You get agitated like that, people get ideas, _try _stuff," he nodded to the right, and I glanced over to see a man slinking towards the door.

I shot him, and someone sobbed. I was growing frustrated. I took a deep breath and turned back to him. "Thanks," I gave him a small smile—all I could manage—and gave a small laugh. "I pretty much suck at this."

Joker shrugged. "Off and on."

The others finally returned and I began to feel some kind of relief. "Let's go."

They hoisted the bags up over theirs shoulders; I couldn't believe how much money they had managed to snag. I strode up to the front doors and opened the warily. I expected Joker to push past me and lead us back to the van, but he remained behind me in my cautious pace.

He _really was_ letting me have this one. It _almost_ brought tears to my eyes. They prickled a little bit. But it could have just been dry eyes from the pot. Who knows.

It seemed _too_ sunny outside. Just too bright. And the walk to the van took ages. But, we finally made it back and I watched as they boys—_my _boys, for today—loaded up our loot. They hopped in, as did Joker. I turned around to take one more look at the Gotham P.D., spread out in a line. Watching me leave. I couldn't believe I had gotten away with it. I've _never_ gotten away with _anything_. Well…scratch that.

I took a deep breath in excitement, proud of myself. I remember thinking: So this it, huh? This is what we're up against?

Something happened. Someone snapped; nervous or upset.

I should have just followed suit and gotten into the fucking van. But I lingered. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard the sharp crack of a hand gun.

The only thing I could think of as the foreign object pierced the flesh of my gut, and then my insides, was the heat that it brought with it.

And then the pain hit, and everything went black.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Well, that's it for now!**

…**.**

**Just kidding! I couldn't leave you with that! **

**HAHAHAHAHAHA**

I awoke to smacking. He was sitting next to my bed. He smiled at my open eyes. "Afternoon, Sleepy-head," he giggled, petting my hair with a _bit_ more force than necessary.

I was a bit surprised that my first thought was not, _Hey, I'm alive!_ But, _Holy Crapoli, I was out for like 14 hours_!

I blinked up at Joker. He looked guilty. "What?" I asked him.

"Weeellllll-_luh_, I got bit _bored_ when the pain meds kept you out for so long….sssooo I took the liberty of putting a smile on that gorgeous face of yours."

I actually _felt_ my jaw drop. I couldn't speak. I just brought my hand up to my lips, moving them slowly over to the sides…

No cuts. I let out a breath of relief and he laughed heartily.

"Who do you think I am?" he laughed. "I wouldn't carve you while you were sleeping!"

It was the _while you were sleeping_ bit that unsettled me. I brought my hand down and saw red at the tips. I looked at him.

He grinned at me and held up a mirror. My eyes moved to my reflection slowly; I was kinda afraid to look…

My face was at white as his. My lips were lined with ruby red. I had a black raccoon mask smudged around my blue eyes.

"_I_ think you look _fabulous_."

I looked at him. He was serious. I felt my lips twitching; face muscles convulsing, unsure of whether to rest or work. And sure enough that feeling kept bubbling up my throat: the laugh that I couldn't allow to escape.

But escape it did. And I laughed for a good two minutes straight. I laughed so hard that I cried, ruining his _fabulous_ work. I laughed so hard that my abdomen muscles convulsed and ached, and I couldn't breathe right.

I finally settled, taking slow breaths. I had fallen back to the bed, and smiled up at him. I finally regulated my breathing, but the burning in my stomach hadn't faded away. In fact, it was growing more intense. I propped myself up on my elbows again and lifted the t-shirt I was apparently wearing (i.e. I'm not sure wear it came from, but I'm pretty sure it's Mr. J's). Crimson smeared across my pale stomach. I bent over to examine it further, and the stinging sensation increased. Ahh.

I had popped my stitches. "What happened?" I asked, scooting myself to the edge of the bed.

"Ya got shot."

"_Duh_," I snorted, working myself into a sitting and then standing position. "I mean did like almost die? Or what?" When I was successful in standing upright, I made my way to the bathroom, stripping off my shirt. The stitches bled more as I lifted my arms up. Ouch.

"Why, would you appreciate life more now if you did?" he asked, moving to leaning against the entrance to the bathroom.

I caught sight of my smeared face in the mirror and laughed again. I ran the hot water for a moment before cupping it in my hands and scrubbing my face. I did this a few times, before drying my face on a towel and starting on my stomach.

I grabbed a washcloth and soaked it, ringing it out halfheartedly. I dabbed at my stomach wound gingerly, chewing on my lower lip while I worked. My head was bent down too far and I was standing in an awkward way.

Joker sighed and took the rag from me. He rinsed it out and knelt down and looked up at my irritably. "This should _not_ be the reason I'm on my knees right now," he growled, and I could only smile down at him.

What the _fuck_ is wrong with me, anyway?

He wasn't as gentle as I was. In fact, he seemed to be hurrying the process along quite carelessly. I was pretty sure he was just making me bleed more.

That couldn't be the case though, because soon enough my stomach was only a slight pink from the scrubbing. I had, indeed, popped my stitches. "Damn."

"Language," he scolded, and smacked my bottom as he stood up before me.

I chewed my lip and looked up at him. "So I'm all good…inside?" I glanced down at my stomach.

He leaned his head towards me and gave me this "I know my shit" kinda look, "Let me be the first you tell you, you are one. Lucky. Bitch. That bullet couldn't have hit you in a better spot."

I laughed in disbelief. I looked down at my stomach and studied the short, straight line and neat stitches (well, there _were_ neat, until I went and popped them). "Kidnap a surgeon?" I asked.

"Only for you," he answered, and I knew that he wasn't just being charming. But he was frowning slightly, and I had a feeling that he was wondering exactly _why_ he went through the trouble of getting a surgeon for me. He ditched the rag in the sink and grabbed my elbow, pulling me behind him.

He dragged me out of my room and down the stairs to the first level. I got pulled through a hallway I'd only been down once and into a room that I'd never seen. It was some kind of makeshift hospital room. He pushed me down onto the table, and I took the hint and stretched out.

He moved to a door at the back of the room and disappeared through it. He came back a moment later, dragging someone _else_ behind him. He deposited the shaking woman next to my table. I took in her blood soaked scrubs.

"You popped your stitches," she said quietly, examining the broken threads. She glanced over her shoulder at the Joker and then to the small table of supplies next to her. She grabbed a small pair of surgical scissors and cut the rest of the thread. It stung when she pulled it out.

I watched as she prepared to re-stitch me, noting her shaking hand as she advanced on my stomach.

"Easy, Doc," I warned, staring at the trembling needle. "Not a fan of needles."

She actually stiffened even more and gulped. I laughed, and it killed my stomach.

"Please stay still," she requested softly as she brought the needle to my skin and pierced it. I felt myself wince and caught Joker's eye. I took a shallow breath (not wanting to move my stomach) and tried to clear my face.

I wish I had been conscious when he had grabbed this chick, because I would _love_ to know what he said to her. It seemed like she didn't make a single move without glancing to Joker for approval. I wondered if she was just scared shitless, or if he had given her special instructions about my care. _That _thought set off a pleasant tingling in my stomach.

When she finished with the needle and thread she taped some gauze over the area. "T-try not to move too suddenly," she instructed, glancing from Joker to me. He grabbed her hair and yanked her up so she was standing. She cried out softly, her hands moving up to her scalp where he fisted her hair. He pulled her to the same door in the back of the room and deposited her in there.

I pushed myself up so that I was sitting on the table, and watched him lock the door.

I shifted, and my wound protested. I brought my hand to rest on the patch of gauze, sighing as he strolled back over to me. "I screwed up," I admitted, looking up at him sheepishly as he came to stand before me.

He placed his hands on the table on either side of me, leaning forward. "Yeah."

"I should have just gotten into the van," I sighed, slipping to my feet. He was closer than I thought; we were now chest to chest.

"You're fine," he stated.

I looked up at him, suddenly hungry for him. I brought my hands up to his chest and stood on my tiptoes to close the distance between our lips. His were warm and soft against mine, and I was suddenly aware that I was still topless (save my bra) when his hands on my back pulled me closer.

I moved my hands up to twist in his curls and hissed when there was a sharp pull in my stomach. I recoiled my hands, and he looked at me like "don't tell me you popped them again". I glanced down to the white patch on my stomach, waiting for it to slowly stain red. It didn't, and I gave a small sigh of relief.

"We have to get moving," he stated, pulling away. I followed him through the house, suddenly annoyed.

"The only sleep I have in _four _days is because I get _shot_, and you want to get _moving_ already?!?"

"Well we have to let them know that you're alive and well."

We ended at his office, and I stood across the desk from him. Giving a glance down, I saw blueprints for the bank we had just robbed.

"Don't tell me," I stated, taking in the 'X's all over the plans. I knew what those marks meant. I felt a smile tugging across my lips.

"_You_ promised, remember?"

Damn. He was right. "I was bluffing. So you went back and blew it then?"

He smiled at me. "That place was rigged to blow before you even _got_ there."

I thought on that. Of course it was.

"You've…had your fair share of injuries, correct?" I asked him. He just looked at me pointedly.

I smiled and moved around the desk to slide in front of him and hop up, swinging my legs so they brushed his softly. "So," I took a deep breath and tugged on his jacket, bringing him closer. "What's the easiest way to fuck without popping the stitches in your stomach?"

He smiled at me, and I could see that he was thinking about some things. That fuzzy feeling started in me again, and when he shed his jacket and started on his vest I could only smile up at him.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**There's an ultra-long chappie for you all! Please, now, I'd hate to beg for reviews, but I can't help but notice that the more chapters I post the less reviews I get… =/**


	6. Right in the Babymaker

**A GRRRRRRRRRREAAAATT big thanks to glasg0wsmile for catching my, uh, rather _grave_ er-ror regarding the text and voicemails bit...Not only did I get her sister's name wrong, but I wrote that her mother left her a voicemail two days after she died. HaHaHa. Well it's all been corrected now, and sorry again for the mistake. This is what happens when you get stoned to write a story about. Getting. Stoned.**

**HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA**

I shook uncontrollably, feeling a wave of nausea wash over me. I wanted to throw up as I did the calculations in my head.

Damn it.

I felt tears sting my eyes, but I couldn't let them fall. I had to find Joker.

It didn't take long. He was where I knew he would be—in his office.

"Afternoon, sweetheart," he said smoothly, not even looking up from his desk. My legs shook as they carried me over to him. I slipped in between him and the desk, leaning against it and looking up at him nervously.

"What's wrong?" he asked me casually, as if he didn't really care. I knew he didn't.

I opened my mouth, but I couldn't force the words out. Instead, I smiled and shook my head. "Nothing's wrong, baby," I brought my hands up to his chest, suddenly wanting him, despite what was on my mind.

He leaned into me, bringing his lips to my ear. His hot breath on my neck and ear made me shiver. "I don't think that's true," he said softly. I glanced down when I felt him move, and saw him drawing a knife out of his pocket. He pulled back to look into my eyes as he rested the cold metal on my cheek. My stomach jolted as he dragged the dull tip down my neck to rest on my collarbone. "What is it?"

I took a deep breath and tried to force the words out. What was going to happen after the next ten seconds? How would he react? I licked my lips and looked up at him. Nervousness blossomed in the pit of my stomach, and I tingled everywhere in anticipation. _Just say the words, just say it. Just tell him. It's okay, just say them…_

I took a deep breath, and then: "I'm pregnant."

He just laughed. I mean, he really _laughed_. As if the idea of him impregnating me was just _hilarious_. When he had settled, he brought a hand up to cup my cheek gingerly. I leaned into the gentle touch, and my eyes fluttered shut. So I didn't see him move the knife.

I only felt it pierce my gut.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

I sat straight up in bed, and yelled when my stomach protested harshly. I was _drenched_ in sweat, and my breath was coming in shaking, tearless sobs. He was already awake next to me, I noticed the TV on, and watched me with mild interest.

He—he _stabbed_ me. Pow. Right in the baby-maker. I stared at him, incredulous. Would he really _do_ something like that? I almost snorted at myself. Of course he would.

He never said a word, never inquired about my sudden awakening. I turned to him, staring him dead in the eyes and said seriously, "I need birth control."

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

When Joker had assured me that he would take care of it, I snuggled against his bare chest again and went back to sleep. When I woke again, a few hours later, I reasoned, due to the fading light that shone through the window, I was alone. I searched the room, but couldn't find my clothes anywhere.

"…the Hell?" I muttered as I looked around. "Fuck it," I gave up after a moment. Opening the door a crack, I peeked my head out. All clear.

I slinked the few feet to my door naked and slipped inside my room, shutting the door quickly behind me.

I dropped down to my mattress and pulled the back pack onto my lap. I dug around and pulled out an extra pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was in my search for underwear that I found my cell phone, laying at the bottom of the bag. I pulled it out and switched it on, hoping that since it hadn't been used it would still have some battery life.

It did, and I had a _lot_ of missed calls and text messages. I decided to read the texts first, scrolling through, not bothering to reply to any of them.

From: Dominic

Party at my place tonight! You coming?

From: Sarah

Dom's is ragin! U need 2 come here!

From: Derek

Where u at? Lets chill tonight

From: Dominic

You missed it last night. Where were you? I'm dead…wanna hang out later?

From: Mom

Is your phone not receiving calls again?

From: Lizzie

Where are you? Mom's going nuts! Call home right now.

I scowled at that last one from my sister. Okay…time for voicemails…

I turned my speakerphone on and went to work packing another bowl as the messages played.

"First unheard message: Hey, sweetie, just checking in with you. You must be working. Give me a call back whenever you get this," my mom instructed me, three days ago.

"Haven't heard from you in awhile, getting a little worried! Give me a call." Mom again.

The third message was some automated telemarketer wondering if I needed a subscription to _Gotham Weekly_. I deleted it promptly.

Mom again. "It's been three days. Is your phone broken? Did you lose it? I hope so. Please check in with me, I'm very worried about you."

The last, and most recent, was left by my best friend, Krista, just two hours ago. "So you obviously know about the robbery and destruction of the bank yesterday. The news said that the Joker was there, but a female matching your description was in charge. You aren't getting into trouble are you? Please call me, you don't usually wait this long." I laughed at that one. Did she put together that they _shot_ the female that matched my description? I also felt a small twinge of guilt; Krista and I had been inserperable for years...how could I forget her so easily?

I lit the bowl, and worked on a text message to Krista while I held the smoke in my lungs. 'I'm fine. Please don't worry. It's complicated.' I sent it, shut my phone off, and tossed it back into the backpack. It _was_ pretty complicated, right? I mean what was I supposed to say? 'Oh yeah, that _was_ me robbing and blowing up the bank with the Joker the other day. Got shot in the stomach, but I'm okay, so don't worry.'? Wouldn't fly.

He didn't knock before he entered (…did I expect him to?), but swung the door open and strolled in. When he saw me on the bed, still naked, he smiled and slinked over to me, kicking the door shut behind him.

He pulled the backpack away and tossed it aside as he crawled onto the mattress to straddle me. "Going _au natural_ today?" he asked, wagging his eyebrows and licking his lips.

I tried not to smile, but failed. "I couldn't find my clothes."

"I threw them away," he said simply.

"_That_ would be why," I nodded. "Good thing I've got backup," I quipped, holding the jeans up.

"Well hurry up and get dressed. We're going out."

"Out where?" I asked as I pulled the blue t-shirt over my head. It was decorated with stars and skulls. I loved it.

"Shopping," he answered, fixing the hair that had been tousled when I put on the shirt. His fingers swept over my forehead softly as he pushed my bangs out of my eyes. "To get you some decent clothing."

I could only imagine what the Joker's concept of _decent_ clothes included.

"And where, pray tell, are we going to do that? You blew up the mall, remember?" I placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back as I slid out from under him. I started wrestling the jeans on.

He rolled his eyes. "There _are_ other department stores in Gotham."

I shrugged. "I guess," was all I said as I yanked the stubborn denim over my too-big hips and butt.

I followed him out the back door, but when I made my way over to the van, he grabbed my wrist and rerouted me.

He led me over to an old, beat up brown Dodge. I slid into the front seat and when he slipped into the driver's seat, I searched for my seatbelt, hastening to buckle it. I felt a little better when the sharp _click_ reached my ears.

"No boys today?" I asked as we pulled out onto the deserted streets.

"This one's just you and I," was all he said, and I couldn't help the way my stomach tingled, or the way my heart lost its rhythm, when the "you and I" part reached my ears.

Our first stop was to a Gander Mountain. I looked at him questioningly, and he just nodded for me to get out.

There weren't many people in the store, but when they saw us enter, they froze. Joker didn't even say anything. He just walked right up to a glass display case and spread his hand.

I stepped up next to him, and gazed at the shelves of knives below me.

"You need a weapon," he explained as his arm snaked around my waist. "And I don't know how much I like you using guns," his voice was teasing, but I didn't like the jab. I scowled and studied the knives.

"I want to see that one," I said, pointing down to a smaller one. The blade wasn't that long, but it was _sharp_, and slightly curved.

Joker looked at the worker expectantly, and the man was anything but slow as he unlocked the case and pulled it out. Shaking hands set it on the counter, and I grabbed his wrist before he could pull it away. He didn't struggle against me, though if he had he _easily_ could have gotten out of my grasp. He didn't struggle, because of who was standing next to me, and that made me feel _powerful_. I liked it.

With my right hand I picked up the knife and let my fingers around the small black handle. It was light in my hand. The cold metal reflected the fluorescent lights as I twisted it around. I closed the blade and flipped it open experimentally. The worker flinched as I did, and I couldn't stop my smirk.

I turned to Joker, to see if he had any input. He just watched me, and then his eyes flicked to the man's wrist in my hand, and back to me.

I twisted the man's hand so it was palm up and brought the knife over slowly. His hand was sweating. I imagined the sweat stung his wound as I slid the tip of the blade across the width of his palm. "This is nice and sharp," I commented, watching the angry red line swell up with blood. "I want this one."

"On the house, of course," the man said quickly, and I gave him a dazzling smile as I released his hand. We turned around and left then, and I wondered vaguely why no one had called the police. Had the Joker gained _that_ much power already? Were people starting to realize that fighting was futile?

I leaned back in my seat as we drove, fiddling with my new toy.

"Nice choice," he said offhandedly, as if it really didn't matter. The two words made me swell with pride.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Several department stores, countless changing rooms, and four full bags of clothes later we were returning to old Victorian. There was someone standing outside smoking as we pulled up.

"Take that shit up to her room," he instructed as we walked passed, and the man tossed his cigarette aside instantly and headed over to the car.

He pulled me through the house and back to the room where I had gotten my stomach all sewn up.

"What are we doing here?" I asked as he shut the door. I knew it was probably best not to question him, but I couldn't help it.

"Birth control," he answered easily as he strode to the back door and unlocked it. He returned a moment later with that same female doctor. She walked calmly over to the table of tools and picked up a needle.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my stomach twisting.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. "Doc's gonna fix you up," he informed me. "So you don't have to worry anymore. Now, off with the shirt," he pulled it over my head quickly, and the cold air blasted my torso, making my nipples harden. He took notice, trailing his warm hands down my sides slowly.

As his words set in with me, I felt dizzy. He didn't mean…

But he did. I watched as the doctor filled the syringe with an anesthetic. I gulped and looked at the Joker.

"I was thinking, you know, like, pills or something," I said, inching away from him and the needle-armed doctor.

He smiled and pulled me closer to him. "Don't worry. She's a very _good_ doctor. I made sure of it. She's not the kind that'll accidentally leave _tools _in your or anything," and he laughed, as if he thought that _might_ actually be a funny occurrence.

I looked up at him, gulping again. My mouth was suddenly very dry, and I licked my lips. "It's not…the surgery, exactly," I explained softly. "It's just…I think…" I couldn't form the words, because I _never_ thought I'd be saying them. "I think I might _want_ kids…eventually."

He laughed again. "I hope you don't have some image of you and me in a little house with a white picket fence and little _clowns_ running around," he laughed and pulled me closer, his touch now more harsh than it needed to be. "Because it'll never happen. That's not the _life_ for me, gorgeous. You know that."

"Of course I do," I scowled, pulling away from him and hopping onto the table. "Little _drastic_, is all I'm saying," I muttered softly as I lay down. The wood was cool on my bare back, and I shivered.

The doctor moved to my side, needle in hand. I closed my eyes to block out the sight, but I could still feel the prick of the needle in the vein of my elbow. And I _couldn't_ ignore the disturbing feeling of the anesthetic flooding into my blood. It was cold as it ran through my veins, and I took a deep breath as my mind started to fuzz over.

So I couldn't have kids. Oh well. In all probability I'd probably be dead before I was ready for any rugrats _anyways_. And these things could be reversed, right?

The last thing I heard before the meds completely took me out was the Joker's voice, low and menacing.

"If she's not alive at the end of this, _you won't be either_."

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**I know, it's shorter, right? But look at it this way: it's my second update in two days, so that's worth it, right? That dream, and this chapter's title are in honor of my great friend, Mario, who always tells me if I fuck up and get pregnant that he'll punch me right in the baby-maker. Sounds pretty demented and repulsive, but it's kind of an inside joke between us =P**


	7. Company

It was pitch black when I woke up, and it took me a minute to figure out that I was in my own room. I sat up slowly, and the covers fell off of me. Somewhere along the way I had gained a shirt.

Pale moonlight flooded my room through the drapeless windows, and I moved slowly through the dark of my room. I glanced at my watch. One in the morning. I stumbled down the stairs, still feeling woozy from my last operation (was that 2 in 2 days then?). Other than slightly sore and groggy I felt fine. Had to hand it to him, for as crazy as Mister J was, he could pick out one hell of a surgeon.

I slipped into the kitchen and flipped on the light. Blinking at the sudden contrast, my eyes roved the countertops for—

Cigarettes. I could almost here the hallelujah chorus in my head as my gaze fell upon an abandon pack of Marlboro Lights. _Perfect_. To my delight, there was also a lighter laying on the counter. I snatched both up and headed out the back door.

I wasn't alone for long. I had a feeling he would know when I woke up. I didn't turn when he came to stand by me.

"Have you, uh, gotten _pregnant_ before?" he asked lightly. I glanced over to him in surprise; he peered at me from the corners of his eyes.

"N-no," I laughed a little at the unexpected question.

"How many, uh, _men_ have gotten to go _all_ the way?" he questioned into my hair as he moved to stand behind me; his hands rested on my hips.

I shifted, embarrassed. Was I supposed to include him? No, I concluded. No, he wasn't a man.

I swallowed tightly. "Three."

"_Three!_" he repeated in astonishment. "_Three?_" I nodded, and his lips brushed my earlobe as he continued. "Were you in a _relationship_ with all _three_?"

He was mocking me, and I didn't appreciate it. His tongue darted across my neck, and my head rolled back against him. "No," I choked out softly as his hands began to trail up my sides. My cigarette burned out in my hand, half smoked and forgotten. When his hand moved up to cup my breast, my fingers twitched and the cigarette fell to our feet. I pushed back against him.

"How many, of the _three_?" he asked me quietly, one hand coming up to thread into my hair. He fisted his hand quickly, yanking my tender scalp. I gasped in pain and hissed in pleasure all at the same time. _How did he do that?_

"One," I finally ground out.

He laughed in my ear and released me suddenly, stepping away. "And we both know how _that_ worked out for you."

I thought about Simon, hovering over Sherry while I stood in the doorway, frozen. I turned my head, embarrassed and hurt that he would bring that up.

"What about the other two?" he asked me.

"Douche bags. Next question."

"Oh ho _ho_," he laughed. "I think I've found a _tender_ spot!" he chuckled as he pulled up behind me once again. "They _couldn't_ have broken your _heart_—no relationships—_so_, what's the story?" he breathed in my ear.

I looked up; eyeing the Big Dipper, knowing there was no way to deny him without receiving some form of punishment.

"It's bright tonight, the _Big_. _Dipper_." He commented, following my gaze. "Know any others?"

I searched the sky for a moment before pointing. "Cassiopeia. There. See the 'W' shape in those five stars? I always look for her. She's my favorite."

"Why?" he asked, and he turned me around in his arms so I was face to face with him. I looked up, trying to stifle my shock. No _wonder_ he felt so good. He was all squeaky clean and smelled like soap. His curls were pushed back neatly, and his skin was as flesh-toned as mine or yours. The only thing that hinted to the madman beneath the exterior was the two jagged lines that ran up each side of his mouth.

"I just…love her story," I said simply, shrugging and giving him a small smile.

"Ahhh," he nodded sagely before grinning down at me. "The queen that was so vain the Gods put her in the heavens upside down."

I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face. He looked pleased to see it. "You know astronomy?"

"You'd be surprised, the things I know," he rasped darkly, drawing me nearer.

"You in the mood to celebrate the fact that I can't get pregnant?" I asked him in the sultriest voice I could manage, pushing against him before closing the distance between our lips. I already knew the answer, and it made me tingle in the best kind of way.

He turned us and slammed me into the rotting siding; I hissed, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. I could feel the wood scratching me, and hoped I wouldn't have any splinters after this.

His hips ground against mine, and I moaned with longing, feeling a heat building quickly between my legs. His hands were under my shirt, kneading my breasts fiercely. My fingers ran over his chest and back, willing the clothes that barricaded his flesh from me to disappear, and growing frustrated when they wouldn't. My hands trailed over his shoulders, down his arms, up to his face, into his hair, but when he began assaulting my neck with his teeth and tongue I had to wrap my arms around him just to stay standing.

"Let's—mmm, yeah—let's go upstairs, _baby_," the last word was more of a breathless moan when his finger entered me roughly. When the hell did his hand even get down my pants?

"_Here_," he rebutted, but his voice was a feral growl, in a way that I'd never heard before, and the one word was so commanding, so forceful, so _rough_, that I had no way of arguing. I just closed my eyes and gripped him tighter as he tugged off my pants and worked on his own, nipping at my neck and ear as he did.

He yanked me up forcibly by my hips, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around him. My stomach was on fire, and I probably popped more stitches, but at that moment I could only focus on the pure, absolute bliss that I could experience only when he was inside of me. I'm sure I cried out as he entered me to the hilt, but our area was entirely under populated, and anyone who had a problem with the noise level could take it from Mister J and see if _they_ could keep quiet.

He pounded into me against the rotting siding, under the light of the full moon. Somewhere in the back of my brain floated the question: _Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moon light?_ I couldn't recall where it came from, or who said it, and I _really_ didn't care. The only thing I could think about was the sort of dance that _I_ was doing in the pale moon light.

And how very possible it was that my partner was the devil.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

As expected, I _did_ pop my stitches, the new set this time. When I finally got my legs to carry my weight (they still felt like jelly after our little _rendezvous _outside) I went back to that increasingly familiar makeshift operating room and retrieved my doctor.

She was a lot less tense without Mr. J breathing down her neck, and actually regarded me with a slight annoyance when I peeled my shirt off.

"What do you keep doing to aggravate these injuries?" she asked me, dabbing a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide.

I smiled slyly. "Fucking the boss," I answered simply. She greened, and for a second I thought she might throw up. I _did_ catch her gag, and I didn't like that. "You got a problem with that?" I asked hotly.

"N-no," she stuttered, gently rubbing away the dried blood from my wound. "No," she said again, softly. She abandoned the now copper-colored cotton ball and replaced it with a small pair of scissors. She went to work snipping out the old stitches, pulling the thread out of me gently. "It's just—" she paused, looking up at me from her seat. "Just straighten up a little bit, there we go," she nodded when I straightened my back, giving her better access to my stomach. "You should use more caution."

"It's just what?" I asked her darkly. I knew she was going to say _something_ else. I just wasn't sure what it would be.

She frowned as she pulled the threads from me. "Do you know why he wants you here?"

I shrugged. "Same reason I choose to be here, I guess."

"Which is?" she pressed curiously, reaching for the needle and thread now.

"A great fuck and some good old fashioned _fun_."

"But…don't you think he's going to kill you?"

"Everyday," I laughed. I was disposable to him, I knew. As much as I hated to admit it, I _couldn't_ hide that fact from myself. I _had_ to accept that someday he was going to get tired of me, or figure out that I was, indeed, useless, and kill me. I wouldn't have any fun unless I did. She paused, unable to work while my abdomen muscles twitched. I calmed myself and took a deep breath.

"That doesn't bother you?" I shook my head no. "So you're just…waiting to die?" she summed up.

"I suppose that's right," I answered.

"How can you do that?"

"How come _you're_ still here, if you're so scared of him?" I countered. The stupidity of the question didn't really hit me until she answered.

"I'm a _prisoner_," she responded, a little too fiercely for my liking. "What's _your_ excuse?"

That was it. I gave her a nice, sharp slap to the left side of her face. The needle stuck my stomach when I caught her off guard, and I glanced down as red welled up in the small puncture.

"Sorry," she breathed, shaking. I was still ticked.

I brought a hand up to her soft, beautiful brown hair, running my fingers through it appreciatively. "_You_ don't need to know why I'm here, and you _shouldn't,_" I fisted my hand in her hair and yanked her up and towards me, so she was leaning awkwardly over the edge of the table. "question them," I finished darkly. I felt my face twist in disgust when I saw the fat tears rolling down her cheeks, but it also brought a tight feeling to my chest.

_This _was fear. _This_ was what he received from _everyone_ he went near. I could see why he loved it so much; the feeling was intoxicating.

"I'm sorry," she apologized breathlessly again, and I spat at her and pushed her back down into her chair. I leaned backwards on my hands to let her know that I was ready for her to continue.

"What's your name?" I asked her as she started stitching again.

"Molly," she answered softly after a moment.

"Molly," I repeated sweetly, bringing a hand up to her hair once more. "Molly, Molly, Molly," I sighed as I fingered the silky strands. "Such a pretty name to match a pretty face," I pinched her cheek and gave it a small slap. She continued working as if I hadn't even spoken. Good. She was learning. "Molly," I said again, and something had happened to my voice. It was softer, but darker; each syllable was _dripping_ with danger and warning. I almost didn't recognize myself, but I liked the sudden change. I wish I knew how to sound that tough all the time. "If you _ever_ disrespect me like that again, _Molly_," I hissed her name, giving her hair another sharp tug, "I'll scalp you and take this beautiful hair for myself."

I didn't _hear_ her gulp, but I know that she did. Her tongue came out to lick dry lips, and suddenly she was more attentive to her job than she had been the whole time she'd been here.

"That's better," I breathed softly. She finished not too long after that, and I deposited her back in her room, which, I noticed, was just four walls and a chair. I locked the door behind me, and whistled all the way back to my room.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

I couldn't fall back asleep, so I packed a bowl and smoked. I sat in my room for awhile before I remembered the cigarettes I had snagged. Craving one, and some fresh air, I stumbled back through the house (pot makes me a little less than graceful) and out the kitchen door.

By this time it was after five, and I watched as the Eastern sky shifted from pink and purple to orange and red. Again, I wasn't alone for long, but this time, I glanced back as the door slid shut to assess my company.

He was tall. At least 6'2". His shoulders were the biggest thing about him, wide and broad. The rest of his body was slender, and long. And I mean, long. The phrase 'tall drink of water' flew through my head as I took in his long arms, long torso, long legs…I almost couldn't help wondering…I eyed him, but stopped myself quickly. Mr. J would eviscerate me if he knew I was even _thinking_ of other man in that way.

He approached me slowly. "Can I bum one of those?" he asked, motioning to the pack of smokes that I still held limply in one hand. From the look in his eyes I had a feeling that they were his to begin with, so I obliged. He easily could have told me that, taken them back. But he didn't. Because I was with the boss.

I was beginning to love the power that I held in this house.

I handed him the lighter wordlessly, still staring at the rising sun in the East. He lit his smoke and handed it back to me, and I pocketed it. I looked over to him again. He was fairly handsome, which surprised me, I guess. I wouldn't figure someone like him to be working for the Joker, but then…

His hair was short and just as chocolaty brown as his intense eyes. He had a fairly pretty face, with the right sort of bone structure for his head shape, and I found myself thinking '_Any other situation…'_

"Parker," he offered when he caught me looking at him. I just studied him further, trying to picture a clown mask on him... "You almost shot me," he added after a moment.

And then, realization, and I flushed red, embarrassed. "Ohhh, at the school," I laughed and he nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that. Not a gun person."

"I noticed," he laughed, and it was a pleasant sound. It had been awhile since I had heard laughter that didn't send chills down my spine.

"In my defense, you _did_ startle the _shit_ out of me, so…" I trailed off, laughing again. My stomach burned, but I ignored it. As long as it wasn't bleeding.

A crow shrieked loudly nearby, and I jumped, dropping my cigarette.

Parker laughed. "Well damn. Looks like you get startled pretty _easily_."

I laughed at myself and, without thinking, stooped down to recover my cigarette. "Oomph, shit!" I cursed softly, standing quickly, my hands flying to my stomach. I pulled my shirt up to find small streams of red trailing from my surgery stitches. "_Damn it_," I growled in frustration. So much for being cautious.

I studied them as best as I could, and everything seemed to be fine. I must have just agitated them a bit. Beside me, Parker bent down to pick up my cigarette. I dropped my shirt and took it from him, nodding my thanks. I didn't care about the blood. I had just taken at least 600 dollars worth of clothing from the trendiest stores in Gotham the previous day. I thought about my knife, and was slightly ashamed to recall that is was sitting useless on my bed. How could I leave my room with out that on me? I longed to hold it in my hand, and I was knee-deep in fantasies about the first time I would use it. I almost missed the question Parker shot at me.

"How long have you been here?" he asked me.

I thought on that for a second. "Five?" I estimated. All of the days seemed to bleed together when you were with the Joker. Days were full of illegal activities, and nights were days too. You usually only slept if you were injured, and the combination of the sleep deprivation and constantly being in the Joker's presence was enough to make your brain melt. Nonsense became sense, and right became wrong. Pain became pleasure and Mr. J was _always_ willing to dish out a little pleasure. My stomach buzzed inside, in a pleasant way. I suddenly wished I had just gone back to sleep with Mr. J.

"How long have you had those stitches?" he quizzed.

I blinked. "Twwoooo…" I answered slowly, "roughly."

"And…how many times have they _been_ stitched?"

I tried to repress my smile as I realized he was teasing me. I also tried to repress how pathetic I suddenly found myself. "Four," I answered shortly after a moment.

He grinned at me and I broke down and laughed.

We finished our cigarettes, and I yawned. My watch told me it was six in the A.M. I guess five hours of sex, doctor's visits and smoking pot was enough to wear me out again. "Well…" I sighed as we stepped back into the kitchen and started down the hallway. "I'm going to go get some sleep before Mr. J decides to start the day."

We reached the staircase, and he was bouncing down the steps. He was whistling, and grinned when he saw me. "Go get dressed, sweet cheeks! We're goin' out!" he informed me in a sing-song voice as he slapped my ass and continued on.

When he disappeared around the corner I turned to Parker. "Was that really hard for you too?" I asked him softly.

He nodded, biting his lip. My eyes started tearing up; my breath hitched in my chest as I tried to withhold the force that tried to fly up my throat and out my mouth. Parker seemed to be fighting the same problem.

When a snort somehow snuck past my defenses and left me, neither of us could remain quiet. We laughed, Parker doubled over, and me, holding onto the banister.

"I gotta—gotta-ha-go get dressed," I squealed through tears, and he nodded and waved, turning away. We were both still laughing as we departed.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Awww! Now my OC finally has a friend! Hahahaha… oh and, yes, I didn't have her introduce herself on purpose. Parker couldn't ask for her name. He really can't afford to show much interest in her at all, if you know what I mean. He just accepts that she's with the boss, and that's that.**

**So I finally have more than like 2 characters in this story. Though our Doc is certainly getting a lot more attention than I had previously predicted. **

**Sooo, whatcha think?? Review please! I really love the comments and encouragement!**


	8. A Busy Day

**I dedicate this chapter to glasg0wsmile, who is my new sorta-beta/idea genius, and without whom most of this chapter wouldn't exist. Thanks so much!**

We had all piled into the van, and I seemed to be the only person that had no idea what we were doing. We pulled up to an exquisite, white building, and half of us got out. I followed the Joker and his men up the steps, and as I glanced around I realized where we were.

I pulled up next to Mr. J; he was knocking politely on the locked glass doors. I glanced at my watch. Seven in the morning. The place wouldn't be open until nine at least. "What are we doing at the museum?" I asked him curiously. He had finished knocking, and now stood rocking on his heels, hands clasped in front of him as he waited patiently.

"Getting culture," he responded, grinning at me. I was still confused.

I watched as a security guard strode up to us, unlocking the doors quickly. He looked nervous, and paranoid. As he opened the doors for us, he poked his head outside and glanced up and down the street. I let my eyes sweep around us as well. It seemed all quiet. The man gave a shaky sigh.

"Tell em to pull around back," he instructed, and Mr. J turned around and motioned for the van to do so. The van took off around the corner, and our small group walked inside.

I didn't get much of a chance to look around as we followed the security guard through the different exhibits. We passed through a collection of Impressionist paintings, and I slowed slightly, taking everything in as quickly as I could. I didn't have time to appreciate any of it.

I was still looking all around me, and plowed right into the back of Parker, who had stopped walking. He frowned at me over his shoulder, and I muttered a quick apology and sidestepped to look around him.

We were in a room full of ancient weapons. _Of course_, I rolled my eyes inwardly, smiling as I spotted what had caught the Joker's attention.

He was rubbing his hands together and smacking his lips as he walked around it, an excited little bounce lacing each of his steps. I stepped up to the informational podium that stood next to the display, and shook my head as I read out loud. "Civil War Confederate Cannon, 1864."

The three men that were with us, Parker included, and the security guard stepped around the mass of iron and began to push it across the open room. The century-old wheels creaked and groaned terribly. It sounded like they were going to pop right off. I was surprised they turned at all.

Mr. J came up to the podium and stood by me, digging in his pocket as he watched his men wheel away his new toy.

"What the hell do we need a cannon for?" I asked him curiously.

He pulled a card out of his pocket and grinned as he placed it on the podium. "We're going to play a game," he threw an empty duffel bag at me. "Start loading up those cannonballs," he nodded to the ammo that lay by the empty space where the weapon used to sit. He walked away, leaving me there alone. I glanced down to the podium.

There was a black jester staring back at me. His legs were kicked as he danced, and his head was thrown back, as if he were laughing. My heart skipped as I stared down at it. It was the exact same card he had given me the first night we met; only mine had been red. It was the partner Joker from the same deck of playing cards, the other fifty forgotten God-knows-where.

There was red writing in the white space around the jester. 'IOU – Good for one Civil War cannon'. All around the rest of the space were the words 'HA', scrawled sporadically at different angles.

I sighed as I eyed the pile of metal and shuffled over to it reluctantly. I dropped the duffel bag on the floor and opened it up. I made to pick up the first ball, but it wouldn't move. "Oh you gotta be shitting me," I breathed, annoyed. Why would he give _me_ this job? It took all my strength to heft up one of the cannonballs, and then I dropped it too far to the left and missed the bag. "Fuck!" I spat as the ball rolled away from me.

I followed the ball with my eyes and saw a pair of shoes coming towards me. "Parker, thank God. Get that for me, will ya?"

He bent down and picked it up. It didn't seem like it took much energy for him at all…I must just be a major wuss. He set it down in the bag by my feet and went to work on the rest of the pile. I made myself comfortably sitting crossed-legged on the floor while he packed them away. "Do _you_ know why we need a cannon?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Knowing the Joker we'll find out fairly soon."

"He said we're going to play a game. Do you know any games that may involve a cannon?"

He shook his head again, but this time he was frowning as he hoisted the bag up over his shoulder. I stood next to him and eyed the bag. Looked pur-_it_-ty heavy. I grabbed a section of the strap and pulled up to help relieve a very _small_ fraction of the weight.

I followed him through the rest of the museum to the back, where our van sat, now a deathtrap on wheels. Mr. J raised an eyebrow as we approached, and I realized how pathetic I must look and quickly dropped my hands to my side. Parker kept on as if there was no change in the weight of the load.

It was a tight squeeze with all of us in back with the cannon. It was quite large, after all. I was surprised it even fit in our vehicle. I wondered how much this thing would slow us down.

The security guard hopped in last, and I was surprised that he was coming with us. When he swung the door shut we were all pushed back, and I found myself flush up against Parker. He was shifting uncomfortably behind me, trying to put as much distance between us as he could. Mr. J's eyes swept over us, and he shifted uncomfortably as well.

He shook his head, nudging the security guard in front of him. "Open the door quick," he instructed. The man did, and a second later Mr. J's foot connected with his ass and he tumbled out of the van. He leaned out and swung the door shut. "Drive."

I guess the security guard wasn't coming with us after all. "That's better," he sighed pleasantly. His arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me away from Parker and against him.

"What game are we playing?"

He snickered, and it appeared he was trying to hold down peals of laughter. "Ever ding-dong-ditch in your youth?"

"What's the cannon for?" I asked, pointing.

"Weeeelllllll, the point of the game is to get them to answer the door..." he was eyeing the ancient weapon with an excited hunger in his eyes.

"Why don't we just use a brick or something?"

He gave me a look of utmost incredulity and turned around to bark at the driver, "MCU. Now-uh."

I was right about the weight of the van. It seemed like we were moving at a tank's pace. One of the men opened up a duffel bag and started loading gun powder into the cannon. When he picked up a cannonball, the Joker pulled something out of his pocket.

"Here. Tie this on," he held out another Joker card, this one attached to a long string. Before the henchman could accept it, and reached out and stopped the swinging card to see the message.

Red, childish script wrapped around the figure. 'Commissioner Gordon: Stopped by to say HI, sorry I couldn't stay. Catch you later though! XOXO'

We twisted through the city as quickly as the driver could, and when we were out front of the Major Crimes Unit, the driver parked the car right in the middle of the street, so the back of the van was facing the doors. We swung the doors open, and I dug into my pocket quickly, pulling out my lucky pink lighter. I handed it to Mr. J, and he stepped around the back and lit the fuse. He dropped the lighter in his pocket and clamped his hands over my ears, pulling me back against him.

It was the loudest noise I had ever heard in my life. The van rocked as the cannon went off, and I could barely hear the splintering of the wooden doors of the MCU over the ringing in my ears. Mr. J's insane, animated cackle _did_ register in my brain though. Nothing could shut out that noise. I was pretty sure even _deaf _people could hear his laugh.

We were swinging the doors shut and driving away as the first of the officers arrived to the gaping hole. Mr. J waved at them enthusiastically from the back window.

I thought we would be heading back home, but we went to a residential area in the opposite direction.

"Where are we going now?" I asked, but before he could respond we took a hard right, and I nearly fell into the mass of iron next to me. It was the Joker's arm around my waist that held me tightly against him, and my eyes fluttered shut as gasoline and Old Spice flooded my nose.

He didn't answer, but he didn't release me either. I actually found myself smirking when his hand dropped a fraction and came to rest on the top of my bottom. I glanced up to him, hoping to catch sight of that mischievous look that he got sometimes that plainly told me I was going to get fucked _good_ when we got home. He wasn't looking at me, he was looking _passed_ me. At Parker.

He knew that Parker and I were companions, and I suddenly understood. Male animals in the wild did this all the time: he was showing Parker that I was _his_ and his _alone_. A warning. It wasn't necessary. Even if there _had_ been any kind of attraction between the two of us, neither of us was stupid enough to act on anything behind the Joker's back. It wouldn't have mattered if Parker and I were soul mates.

I mean it's the fucking Joker. You _don't_ cheat on the Joker.

Not wanting Mr. J to have stupid thoughts about Parker and me, I pushed myself fuller up against him. My low cut tank top displayed my breasts, pressed against his chest. I slid my hands up his chest and around his neck. When my fingers curled into his hair and tugged lightly his eyes darted down to mine. _Success_.

"Where we goin?" I whispered in a _slightly_ sultry kind of tone. I was _really_ tempted to add a 'baby' on the end of that question, but thought better of it while in the company of his men. That probably wouldn't make him happy. From the way his lips twitched, I could tell he heard it tacked on there just as clear as if I had said it out loud. It was laced in my tone.

He pushed the hair away from my eyes and leaned down closer to me. He _was _giving me a mischievous kind of smile, but still not a sexy kind of one. "There are a few more people I'd like to visit," and I nodded in understanding. His hand had dropped even lower on my rump.

"When are we going home?" I breathed, eliminating all space between our bodies.

"Patience," he advised lightly. His lips were brushing my earlobe, and I stifled the whimper that threatened to escape when he nipped at it lightly.

We backed halfway up into a driveway, and the boys set to work on pushing the cannon out. Before I knew it, Mr. J had produced a grenade from his pocket and pulled the pin. He popped it into the head of the cannon, and commanded the driver to take off. The driver must have known what was coming—the screeching of our tires as we peeled out almost hurt my ears.

The explosion sounded behind us, and I turned to Mr. J, looking up at him curiously. "Whose house was that?"

"That would be the dear _Commissioner's_ dwelling," he responded, sucking on his teeth.

"Why did we blow up a cannon in the Commissioner's driveway?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?" he countered. I shrugged. He sighed. "It's all about the _message_," he explained, leaning down to me. "It doesn't matter if you get it. The Commissioner will understand. He's a smart one. A _schemer_, though," he tacked on after a moment, frowning slightly; his green-tinted brows furrowed over black holes. "I never _did_ like schemers all that much."

He looked down at me, and his disposition brightened instantly. _Emotional one-eighties…_ He leaned down so his lips were at my ear once again. "You aren't a schemer, are you?" he giggled softly.

I couldn't help grinning. "I just follow _you_, Mr. J," I pointed out.

"A sheep!" he giggled shrilly. "And I, the shepherd!" he declared, which sent him into another round of giggles. He calmed himself and looked down to me. I couldn't place exactly _what_ the expression on his face conveyed. Pride? Lust? Ownership? "You follow me," he repeated my words, and it suddenly sounded dark and overwhelming when it came off of his lips.

"Blindly," I added. I swallowed, attempting to wet my dry throat. "Forever," I stated, and promised.

He raised an eyebrow at that last word.

"For as long as you'll have me," I amended, and he smiled. I was finally starting to get things right, it seemed.

The van moved a lot faster after the immense weight loss, and I wondered where our next destination was as we sped through the streets of Gotham.

"Ooo, pull over here!" Mr. J directed excitedly. It seemed he had just gotten a very good idea. He pushed me aside roughly and slid the side door open. He produced another grenade and pulled the pin just as I caught sight of the store we were in front of: Andy's Liquor.

The grenade went through the window, and the store rocked and burst into flames as we drove away. I wondered if we actually had some sort of agenda, or if Mr. J was just doing whatever popped into his head.

Probably the latter.

There was a lot of free space again, so I sat down on the floor and spread out my legs, crossing my ankles and leaning my head back against the side of the van tiredly. I hadn't gotten much sleep at all. I regretted not trying harder to catch some Z's. I should have known Mr. J would want to get an early start.

I wondered if the Commissioner had gotten news of the present we left for him back at his house. I wondered if the liquor store fire would spread to the neighboring shops before the firemen got there. I was so busy wondering about everything that I didn't even notice that we had stopped until Mr. J was pushing me out of the van.

I straightened and stretched my legs, looking around us. We were in the parking lot of a grocery store. The automatic doors slid open for us as we strode inside. The men were carrying guns. I didn't quite get why we here there. We certainly weren't _robbing_ a _grocery_ store? …Were we?

I followed Mr. J in obedient silence. He'd only get mad if I started asking questions again. He really didn't like explaining things. He walked right up to the service counter and pulled the phone across the counter towards him. The teenage girl behind the counter stared at us with wide eyes. She had been blowing a bubble with her pink chewing gum as when she spotted us, and it sat full on her lips, forgotten, begging to be popped.

I smiled sweetly and gestured with one finger for her to come closer. She took slow steps towards me, but she didn't hesitate. I liked that. When she reached the counter, I leaned over and swatted the bubble. It snapped, and I laughed. The girl paled, looking as if she were about to faint. Mr. J gestured to the phone.

"How do I get on the intercom?"

The girl began chewing her gum again, slowly chomping up and down. She eyed the Joker as she picked up the phone and hit a couple buttons, then handed him the receiver.

"_Goooooood_ Morning, Korte's shoppers!" he greeted pleasantly. "You know, I've been thinking about grocery stores a _lot_ lately, and do you know what I've come up with?" he asked, and then waited a moment, as if he actually expected _someone_ to answer him. "Here's what I think: Food, drinks, vit-al e-ssen-_tials_, are far overpriced. As consumers, wouldn't you a-_gree_? I mean, we need these things to _survive_, and they jack up the prices to get the guh-_reen_. Paper. That's what they want. And _you _can't get the things you _need_, unless you have these seemingly valuable scraps of _paper_."

I glanced around. People looked scared, certainly, but many almost seemed…_interested_. Interested in what he had to say. He was making a very good point, of course, but Mr. J _always_ makes a good point, even if no one else can seem to grasp it but him.

"So, to why we're _here_," he continued, and the sound of his lip-smacking crackled over the speakers. "I'm going to do you all a little _favor_. As I understand it, it seems Gotham as a whole is still in a bit of a _depression_. Do you know what they used to do, when things got bad like this in the old days? They looted, pillaged, took whatever they could find. Every man for himself. You have _ten minutes_ to get what you want, wheel it out to your little cars and _leave_. In ten minutes this store and everything still inside is getting blown to hell."

That must be where the boys were; setting up explosives. Some people made their way to the exits immediately, but I noticed a good chunk of the customers continued through the aisles, grabbing things quickly and shoving them into carts, baskets, pockets and purses.

"Don't forget to have a guh-_reat_ day, now! And remember, ten minutes," he reminded as he hung up the phone. He winked at girl frozen behind the counter.

"Look on the bright side: you'll never have to work in this crappy store ever again," I smiled at her, and her lips twitched. "Grab me a pack of Marlboro Lights, doll," I ordered her, and she obeyed, handing _two_ packs to me quickly. "Get out of here," I encouraged her, nodding to the exit. She gave me a thankful glance before producing her purse from underneath the counter, swinging it over her shoulder as she rushed out of the store.

Mr. J leaned against the counter casually, watching as people wheeled out cartfuls of "free" groceries to their cars. He stayed true to his word. We waited in that store for nine minutes before he motioned that we were leaving. He handed me the detonator as we hopped into the van, and I pushed it with a grin. The side door was still open, so we got to see the building blow. There were still five or six cars in the parking lot, not including ours. I wondered if some people had still been inside, or if they had just abandoned their cars all together. I hoped it wasn't the first. Not that I really cared or would feel _guilty_. But how much would it suck to be told that you could just _take_ whatever you could get your hands on, and then not make it out alive?

I was still grinning as we pulled away. I turned to Mr. J, handing the detonator back to him. He pocketed it. "Where to now?" I asked him, but he just shrugged. I racked my brain for something fun and random that we could go do, but doubted that any of _my _ideas could compare to anything Mr. J would come up with out of the blue.

I could almost _feel_ my eyes light up as I gasped and straightened. "Let's go take over a TV station!" I declared. I was proud of my sudden burst of genius.

"And do what?" Mr. J asked me curiously. He sounded intrigued.

Unfortunately, that was where I _stopped_ intriguing him. I slumped back against the side of the van once more as I realized that that was where the idea stopped. I shrugged. "I dunno."

I glanced over to him, and he was peering at me out of the corner of his eye. After a few seconds, he beamed at me. "I love it! Let's go!" he encouraged the driver by thumping on the back of his seat twice.

He stared at the floor intensely, probably waiting for an idea to pop into his brain regarding _what_ we would do at the TV station. After slight discussion we chose to head over to GCN. As we drove, I watched Mr. J's mouth.

He had sucked in his bottom lip, and was nibbling it. He released it and poked at the insides of his scars with his tongue. For a moment he looked like he was gnawing on metal, and then his lips twitched and pulled into a small smile. _There it is_.

When we were out front, Mr. J turned to two of his men. "Go make sure it's secure. Cut phone lines, internet, I don't want anything coming out of that building except for my transmission."

The two nodded and hopped out. We waited in the van for ten minutes in silence before Mr. J finally motioned at the rest of us to get out. We hopped out and, feeling mischievous, I kicked my foot out right in front of Parker.

He stumbled and turned to glare at me when he got his footing. Mr. J and I laughed. As we came upon the building, I started feeling anxious. What were we going to do? I tried to push those feelings away. I didn't like not knowing what we were going to do, but I had to trust Mr. J. He's never steered us wrong before.

It was like everywhere else we went these days: we walk in, and everyone freezes. No one dares call the cops. Everyone knows that they're probably busy with other problems. …Other _Joker_-like problems.

Trying to appear as if I wasn't completely clueless, I followed Mr. J confidently over to the area where they do the broadcasts. He rounded up everyone" the anchorman, the weather girl, those two sports guys, and everyone in between. He was busy lining them up, and I stood by idly. He turned to me. "Get us live," he instructed me.

I nodded and made my way over to the camera crew. They were watching us in horror. "We need to be live in five," I informed them. "Make it happen."

When no one moved, I sighed. Reaching into the pocket of my hoodie I pulled out my knife and flipped it open as I advanced on them slowly. I picked the one that happened to be closest to me, and stopped when I was mere inches from him. He didn't step back, but he _did_ flinch whenI brought the knife up to his face to point at him menacingly.

"Is there a pur-_rob­_-lem?" I asked him in my best imitation of Mr. J. Eyes wide, the cameraman shook his head frantically. "Then get us _live_ in _five_," I repeated slowly, my voice dropping to a growl. I smiled when the three of them that had been around me went to work setting up the cameras. I turned around as I pocketed my knife and found Mr. J watching me, a strange expression on his face. He seemed…amused…and _proud_, as if that was exactly what I should have done in that situation.

I strolled over to him. We could only wait to start now. "Do you know what you're doing?" I inquired in a low voice. He nodded and placed his hands on my shoulders, steering me off to the side. I'd never been on TV before (unless you count the videos from the bank heist), and it seemed I wasn't going to start today. It was my idea to come here, but it was Mr. J who made it an actual plan-of-action, so I stepped off to the side and stood silently, patiently, waiting with the rest of Gotham to see what Mr. J was playing at.

The-news-is-about-to-start music jingled around us and the sound made me laugh. How many people would know it wasn't legit news right away? How long would it take people to realize that this broadcast was by the Joker? How many viewers would we get in the middle of the day?

"Hello, Gotham! Just your old pal _Joker_ here, doing a bit of an _experiment_," he began pacing back and forth in front of the line of workers. They shook and sobbed behind him. "You see, I'm not looking for any _trouble_ today, just want to uh, _show_ you…show you exactly how…_noble_ the people of this city can be."

He moved to the start of the line. It was Mike Engel, and he was shaking uncontrollably. I recalled that he had been part of one of Mr. J's twisted little broadcasts once before. Would he make it out of this one alive as well?

Mr. J draped an arm around him in a friendly fashion, and leaned into him conspiratorially. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a detonator. "Mike, Mike, _Mike_," he sing-sang, waving the detonator around. "We're going to play a little _game, _Mike," I heard Mike Engel choke on another sob. Mr. J slapped him upside his head. "You see, this detonator…this detonator will make or break you, _Mike_," it seemed every time Mr. J said his name the man shook even harder. "This detonator is paired with some explosives in an orphanage across town. Push the button, and I'll let you live."

So _that_ was it. He was _testing_ them. On live TV. If they refused him they would die heroes. If they didn't, they would live, but as a monster. What would society say about someone who blew up an orphanage to save their own life? Would they understand?

No, they wouldn't. I decided. Not unless _they_ were in that situation. I knew that anyone who looked down upon whoever would decide to push the button (if anyone did), but if it were _them_, surely they would find a way to justify it. It was Gotham society at its finest, and it made me sick. As I dwelled upon this, it felt as if a small sliver of light began to shine in my mind. Shining down on the dark, horrid, unbearable truth.

The Joker was right. About everything. I was starting to see more and more.

Mike swallowed loudly and licked his lips. In the light from the overheads I could see the sweat shining on his forehead. Ultimately, he shook his head no. Mr. J shot him in the face.

The girl next to him screamed at the sudden sound, and then again (an even_ more_ horrified scream) when she realized that she was covered in Mike Engel's brains and blood.

She was hyperventilating and clawing at the matter on her shirt and arms when Mr. J turned to her. "How about you? Hmm? Sacrifice the kiddies to save your pathetic little life? No?" he asked when she shook her head.

"P-please don't make me," she begged softly.

To that, Mr. J gave a horrid, shrill laugh. "I'm not going to _make_ you do anything!" he laughed. "…except decide who gets to live," he added after a moment.

She sobbed and tried to take a few steps back, but Mr. J wasn't having it. "At ta ta, please stay in _line_," he grabbed her arm and yanked her forward. "Are you going to push the button or not?" he asked, beginning to lose his patience.

The woman took a deep breath and straightened. She wiped the tears from her face and looked from me to Mr. J. "Not."

It was her final word.

Joker moved to the next man, who instantly shook his head. "Just shoot me," and he did. In the man's kneecap. He screamed and crumpled to the floor. Mr. J laughed.

"Well you never specified _where_ to shoot you," he pointed out. He crouched down next to the man, who was holding his knee. He looked to be in extreme pain. "Hey," he said softly, tapping the man's face until he opened his eyes and looked at him. "Do me a favor and push this button, huh?"

When the man shook his head again, Mr. J stood and shot him again, this time in the chest.

I took a look around me. The camera operators had their equipment pointed in the right direction, but none of them were watching. I made my way around the area to stand closer to them as Mr. J shot the next person in line. _That one was fast_.

I leaned over to a cameraman that had his eyes squeezed shut tightly. I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Pay attention," I commanded softly. He jumped at my sudden presence, but obeyed me, and forced himself to turn back to the gruesome mockery of a news flash. The others noticed my presence and did the same. They all looked like they were going to vomit. I stifled a laugh, not wanting to make any kind of noise that wasn't related to what Mr. J was doing.

He was tormenting the weather girl now, who was crying something about her two-year-old daughter.

"There are _loads _of two-year olds at the orphanage," he stated. "Kill _them_ and you can go home to _yours_."

She was the last in the line. Last chance. What would Mr. J do if she refused? Blow up the orphanage anyway?

She sobbed and buried her face in her hands. "I'm getting _bored_," Mr. J warned her. "Make a choice."

Her hand was shaking so hard as she took the detonator from him that I was surprised she could even hang on to it. She was still sobbing when she looked up at the camera. "I'm-I'm s-sorry," she choked out. "I'm all she has," she explained, as if it justified blowing up a building of children.

"Hold it up high, so everyone can see!" Mr. J instructed her excitedly. He was certainly less bored now.

She did as he said and slowly raised it up so the camera could see. She pushed the button.

Nothing should have happened. No one was expecting anything to happen. After all, he had said that the explosives were across town. But something _did_ happen when the single mother weather girl pushed the button.

A white flag was released from the top of the device, with BOOM printed across it in bold, black letters.

The weather girl stared at it.

Mr. J gave a long laugh. "GOTCHA!" he laughed some more at the blank expression on her face. "There was never an orphanage after all, practical _joke_ I'm afraid," he laughed again, and I couldn't help but join him. It surprised me just as much as everyone else. "But you _were_ going to do it," he pointed out. "You were going to blow up an _orphanage_ to save _yourself_," he turned to the camera. "This is what I'm talking about, people! _Self-ish-ness_," he said slowly, licking his lips. He smiled brightly and turned back to the girl. "Say, is there any chance of _rain_ tomorrow?"

The weather girl fainted.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

We had spent the rest of the afternoon just driving around Gotham and grenading random buildings. It seemed Mr. J had about twenty of them on his person. I wasn't quite sure _where_ he was keeping them, but every time I turned around he had another one in his hand, ready to go.

We were back at the house, and I was outside, smoking and watching the sun set, when Parker came out. "Busy day," he stated, and I nodded. "Could I possibly bum one of those from you?" he asked hesitantly. He didn't seem like the kind of guy to bum cigarettes, and I could tell he felt uncomfortable asking me. Whether or not it had something to do with Mr. J I didn't know. All I knew was that he must have been desperate for a smoke.

I turned to him. "I took yours, didn't I?" I asked. He didn't confirm it, but I knew it was true. I laughed. "Lighten up," I suggested, digging into the pocket of my hoodie. I pulled out the pack that I had just opened. "Here, that cashier gave me two."

He accepted the pack with a soft 'thanks'. We smoked in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. I wasn't sure what _he _was thinking about, but I was going over everything that had happened that day.

"Would you have done it?" I asked him.

He knew that I was referring to the orphanage situation. "Average Joe me, or Works for the Joker me?"

I had the answer from that response, but I continued anyway. "Average Joe."

"No," he answered confidently. "Would you have?"

That was exactly the question I had been asking myself all afternoon. I gave him the same answer I gave myself. "I haven't lived enough."

He snorted. "That's why you're with _him_, huh?"

I understood what he was saying, but it still annoyed me. Because I knew the truth: yes, I would have. I would have taken that detonator and pushed the button, would have blown up a whole building of children, most of whom hadn't even lived _half _as long as me. I could justify it all I wanted, but the truth was, in the end, it was just another excuse to cover selfishness.

Parker finished his cigarette in silence and waved to me as he departed.

Two minutes later, Mr. J came outside. I swear those two were on some sort of schedule to watch me whenever I decided to go outside. If one wasn't around, the other was. I didn't mind _too_ much. If I wanted privacy I could go to my room. Mr. J usually let me keep to myself unless he had something for us to do.

At the moment, I _did_ mind. I had been having these internal battles all day about all sorts of stuff, and I didn't want to be around him. If he was around, there was a great chance I wouldn't be able to stop myself and say something stupid that would probably get me in trouble.

As if that thought were my cue, I opened my mouth and blurted out the question that I had been burning to know the answer to ever since the Joker first made his appearance in Gotham.

"What do you want?" it came out kind of bratty, and I tried again. "I mean…in the grand scheme of things. Big picture. What is it you're after?" I was unable to mask the intense curiosity in my tone, and I winced inwardly. Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut if I couldn't mask my emotions better?

"You tell me," he responded. When I glanced over, I found him looking at me expectantly.

"W-well," I started, hoping that if I could make words come out they would somehow stream together to form something cohesive and intelligent, preferably the right answer. "You're a criminal," I heard a soft 'Mhmm", "…and, typically, criminals are after money…power…influence," I chanced a glance to him, hoping I'd still be able to talk. He was gazing at me intently. "But…" I gave him a small smile, "You're not exactly a typical criminal."

He was nodding, mirroring my smirk. "You want…" I trailed off, gazing at him. I took in his stance, casually leaning against the crumbling siding of the house, arms folded across his chest. I felt a pull in my chest suddenly, as if my body was informing my brain that I should be wedged between his chest and his arms.

I glanced up to his face. His raised eyebrows reminded me that I was supposed to be saying something. I sighed, starting over as I looked to the horizon. "The truth…about our world…you know it. And you want it exposed. You want everyone to believe…to _understand_."

There was a moment of silence between us, and then: "Do _you_ understand?"

I turned slightly, looking over to him. He had straightened, and was now taking slow, deliberate steps, closing the distance between us. Our eyes locked, and I licked my lips and swallowed, attempting to wet my suddenly dry mouth and throat. "I'm starting to," I said softly, nodding. "I hope to fully someday."

That last part was a lie. The more I thought on it, the more likely it seemed that the day I did would be my last. My death would hold a bitter, ironic humor; eyes finally opened to the world around me, finally comprehending, finally _free_ of the binds of society…only to die moments later. It would be very much the Joker's style.

My eyes darted to a blinking light in the dimming sky, and I watched as a plane made its ascent into the sky; away from Gotham's desolate streets and its crime, and chaos. Away from the Joker.

"Hmm," I heard beside me, and I looked over. Mr. J was watching the plane intently. "Southeast…" he murmured, glancing at his watch. "Yup. That must be the 7:45 to Miami."

I was about to question this knowledge when my eyes caught the small device he pulled out of his pocket. He pushed a button, and I swiveled back around just in time to see fire falling from the sky.

For some reason, the only thought in my head as the flaming debris dropped out of my view was that no one could get away from the Joker. No one.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**So this one took awhile to get out, so I made it a little ex-tra long for you. Sssooo maybe you'll **_**review**_** and let me know what you **_**think**_**-uh? It would much…appreciated.**

**Oh, btw, wtf? Look at the stats from this story:**

**Total htis: 1966 (yay!)**

**But here's a breakdown of the hits to reviews ratio of each chapter: (Hits-Reviews)**

**1. 810 – 16  
2. 350 - 9  
3. 219 - 4  
4. 136 - 5  
5. 169 - 5  
6. 118 - 3  
7. 164 – 2**

**Hmmm… that's quite disturbing. If I'm doing my math right, that's means that less than 2% of the people that are reading this story send me reviews. **

**Okay, enough of the total guilt trip =P haha, okay guys have a great one, hope you enjoyed and please let me know what you're thinking of things!**


	9. Drug Run

I woke up naked, cold and alone. A glance to the clock on my nightstand showed that it was eight in the morning.

I got a full night's sleep. Well, mostly. Mr. J had occupied _some_ of that time. Took off after I fell asleep, it seemed. I tried not to feel hurt or lonely. He was probably busy with something.

First I started searching for my stash. My heart fell when I realized I didn't even have enough for a full bowl. I quickly packed and smoked the meager remains, making the annoying mental note to figure out a way to score some more weed later.

I threw on some sweats plus a sweatshirt. After I dug out and donned my fuzzy slipper/socks I began to make my way down to the kitchen.

The small TV that sat on the counter was already on, and turned to the morning news. I sat at the counter in front of it, my head resting on my hands. Parker was digging in the cupboards. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," I yawned. I had just gotten nine hours of sleep, but I was still groggy and tired. I think by just being around Mr. J I was cursed to being eternally exhausted.

They were talking about our antics at GCN yesterday, but, I noticed, _not_ showing the clip that we had aired. I tuned it out and turned to Parker.

"So are you just, always here?" I asked him. He chuckled, and I smiled. "I mean, I never see anyone else but _you_ around here."

"Everyone else gets to go home," he responded, sipping on black coffee. I made a face and hopped up to search the fridge for some cream.

"What are you sayin', Parker?" I asked dramatically, "No home to go to?"

He smiled ruefully at me. "My job requires constant presence."

Successful in my search, I brought the cream over to the counter and sat down once again as I added the white liquid to black. It clouded and formed neat shapes until I stirred it in. "What job is that?" I asked, sipping on my own coffee. It was still incredibly hot. I set it down in front of me.

"You," he laughed when I looked at him suddenly. "Surely you _noticed_."

I felt my cheeks growing red. Of _course_. I felt stupid. "I-I guess," I didn't know what else to say. I thought Parker and I just got along well. Friends, in a way. Thinking on it, it seemed a lot more likely that he was just doing his job. Babysitting me. "Doesn't he _trust _me? Haven't I _proven_ myself to him yet?"

Parker scoffed. "Don't be offended. It's not that he doesn't trust you. In fact, it's everyone _else_ he doesn't trust. He…doesn't want to lose you. You're his favorite plaything, you know," he informed me. I was about to respond, but the news caught my attention with their new story.

"The four bodies were found late last night. Officers aren't yet ready to comment on the location, but the bodies have been identified as those of Robert, Melissa, Steven and Elizabeth Warner," and there was that damned family portrait. I had a feeling they were going to show that. All of us stared ahead to the camera, blank and smiling. I looked like shit, of course, because I had barely made it there from rugby practice. "The only remaining family member, Sarah Warner, has been missing for roughly a week. Her apartment building was blown up, but no trace of her body has been found in the debris," and _there_ was my senior picture from the yearbook. "If anyone has had contact with or has any information regarding Sarah Warner's disappearance they are urged to contact the police immediately."

We were both silent as they moved on to the next story. I sipped my coffee slowly, trying hard not to burn my tongue.

"Sarah?"

I gave him a small smile. "You don't have to pretend that you don't know _all _about me."

He matched my smile. "Thanks."

"Why won't they comment on where they were found?" I asked him curiously.

Parker smiled. "We dumped em in the alley behind the MCU."

I gave a small smile, but I was still pissed about that damn family portrait, but felt a bit better that they also showed my senior picture. It was probably the _best_ picture I'd ever taken in my pathetic life. And that was probably only because Krista had done my hair and makeup.

Krista. My thoughts flashed to her again, and guilt engulfed me. Did she think I was dead, too? With the rest of my family? I _had_ texted her a few days after leaving. Hopefully she wasn't worrying too much. I'd have to do something to make it up to her…

I turned to Parker. "I need to get some coke," I informed him. I hoped he could hook me up with someone.

Parker grimaced slightly and shook his head. "I don't think the Boss would like you doing that stuff."

I rolled my eyes. "No way. It's for a friend of mine. Speaking of which, though, I _do _need some more weed."

He still looked hesitant. "Get me the cash. I'll see what I can do."

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

A few hundred dollars and two hours later I held a bag a dope and a brick of coke in each hand.

I beamed at my nanny. "Thank you, Parker," I said sweetly. "Now I've just got to get to Krista. Shouldn't be too hard to track her down," I muttered to myself. I started to depart, but Parker blocked my path.

"You _may _want to check with the Boss first…you're not allowed out by yourself."

"Not _allowed_?" I repeated, half annoyed and angry, mostly insulted. "What am I, a prisoner here?"

Parker rolled his eyes and gave me a gentle slap upside the head. I was glad he was starting to feel more comfortable around me. "You know it's not like that. Protection, mostly."

His excuses did little to ease my annoyance. "And here I thought I'd proven that I could take care of myself," I grumbled, pouting, quite childishly, I must admit.

"Not just _your _protection. We have to be careful coming back here. We don't want anyone trailing us, do we?" he spoke as if that should have been obvious to me, and I guess it should have been. I decided to be a grown up and change my attitude.

Giving as airy a smile as I could, I shrugged. "I'll take it up with Mr. J then, I guess."

"Good idea," was all Parker said before me left me alone.

Tossing the narcotics aside for the moment, I turned my attention to _my _purchase. I could smell the weed through the thin plastic bag, and it smelled _good_. I made myself comfortable on my floor, back against my mattress, and started loading a bowl.

"Sticky, sticky," I breathed aloud, smiling. "Sticky is good," my excitement made the words come out in a sing-song tone, which made me think of Mr. J. I giggled at that realization. Was I going crazy? Acting like the Joker was certainly a good indication towards affirmative.

I took a few hits before retrieving Krista's package. Puffing out my smoke in (failed) attempts at smoke rings, I turned the drugs over in my hands.

The clear plastic couldn't hide the suspiciously white powder contained within. I tossed it back and forth between my hands, smiling. Krista would _totally_ forgive me now.

My door swinging open startled me, and I dropped the package on the floor. Parker was right—I _did_ startle easily.

I had enough time to see his expression go from light and boisterous to a seething anger, but I didn't have time to react before his hand was in my hair and he was yanking me up to stand. His other hand grasped the soap bar sized bag of coke off the floor and held it up in front of my face. His eyes were narrowed and raging. "What the fuck is this?" he growled, shaking it before me.

"Coke," I stated simply, and he released my hair to give me a sharp slap across my face.

I stumbled back, and he snatched my locks again and brought me back. "What? What the fuck?"

He turned me around and pulled me back against him. His hands tore my hair down, pulling my head back almost as far as it would go. He held up the cocaine again so I could see it. "_My girls_," he growled, "don'-_t _. Do. This. Shi_t-uh_," he informed me darkly.

Rage swelled up inside me. I brought my elbow into his ribs as sharply as I could and tried to push him back. He released me and I spun around to face him in anger. "I'm _not_," I spat, snatching it from him and tossing it to my bed. "It's for a friend," I said bitterly. Why would I want to fry my brain with that crap? Oh, I'm not going to pretend I haven't tried it, but I never did like the effect; too manic and frenzied for me. I more enjoyed the chill ease that marijuana brought on.

He sent a cold, calculated, fisted punch to my face, hitting me squarely on my right cheekbone. Ahhh…that was _not_ going to be pleasant later. He grabbed my hair and, for the third time, pulled me into him.

"And they're _not_ mules."

"I'm not a mule!" I cried in exasperation. What the fuck happens inside that head of his? "I picked it up for a friend with the cash you gave me. A present."

He could almost make me dizzy with his emotional one-eighty's. His lips twitched into a small smile as he peered down at me. The hair situation, however, did not change. "Birthday present?"

I shook my head, and he tightened his grasp and twisted. I gasped in pain, and his tongue flew in to meet mine. He used my hair to his advantage and pulled my face against his brutally. Before it started it was over, and he was pulling back. But his fingers were still painfully twisted in my mane. My scalp was on fire.

He brought his cheek to mine and whispered, "Where's your knife?"

I cringed, caught and ashamed. "By my bed."

He released me instantly and strolled over and picked it up. I watched as he weighted in his hand and twisted it around. "Feels nice," he nodded. He came back to stand in front of me. He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around in a circle, eyeing me.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and tucked the knife into the back of my jeans. He toyed with my shirt to cover it. "You should _always_ have it on you," he informed me, and I just nodded at him.

"So how do you plan on getting that coke to your friend?"

I shrugged. "I dunno...call her up, meet her somewhere..."

The sting across my cheek told me that was the wrong answer. "Are you stupid? Word gets back to the cops that you're alive and meeting people and you'll lead them right back to us!" he hissed angrily. I was instantly grateful for Parker's similar warning.

I just stood before him silently, trying not to evoke any more wrath from him. Something else was bothering him. I'd never seen him this angry before. I knew it couldn't be all about me.

...Could it?

He pointed an angry finger at me. "No contact. With anyone. How were you planning to call her? Stroll down the street to a payphone? Hmm?"

I scowled at him. "No, I was going to call her with my cell phone."

The slap and the question both came so fast it seemed he was doing both at once. "What cell phone?"

Rage swelled up in me, and I extended my arms and pushed him back as hard as I could. "Would ya STOP that? It was in the backpack! I thought you put it in there!"

He stalked towards me, one hand wrapping around my throat to hold me still. "How many people have you contacted?"

"Just Krista," I answered evenly.

"What did you tell her?"

"I can show you the text I sent her," I informed him, pulling away. He released me, and I retrieved my phone and turned it on. Flipping to my last sent message, I relinquished the phone to him.

He seemed to relax instantly. He straightened and smiled. "Oh, okay then," he held the phone out to me, but when I reached out to take it back he growled and ripped it away, hurling it toward the wall where it shattered.

Well, the battery was about dead anyway.

I just stared at him, and he sighed, bringing his hand up to cover his eyes. The action made him look strangely human. He brought his eyes up to lock with mine, and I nearly shivered at the dead look in them. "Will she tell anyone?"

I thought about it for a second, attempting to form my opinion logically rather than just trusting Krista not to be that dumb. But then, I thought, how would she know? She doesn't know that I'm running around town blowing shit up with the Joker...in fact, if she's heard the news about my being missing, which she has, because she's my best friend, she knows that I'm probably being held captive by the Joker. And if I was texting her when I was with the Joker....

I gulped. This could actually be a problem. I knew that I couldn't outright lie to him.

He would know, naturally, so instead I just chose my words carefully and tried to conceal my horror. "There is a possibility. She'd be concerned about me, but she won't want to deal with the cops. She's a cokehead, and they scare her. Plus it may bring into question some of the events that happened the last night I was seen...which won't be good for Krista."

He nodded, but his face was completely blank. He had just made a decision, and he was sticking to it.

"What are you doing? That's for Krista--" I protested as he retrieved the drugs from my bed.

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "It hasn't even been cut yet. That's why it's a brick like this. I'll have one of the boys cut and package it for ya," he said breezily, winking at me as he pocketed it

"So you're not going to kill her?" I asked, relieved.

He turned around and gave me a stern look, wagging his finger at me. "You're going to follow her, get her when she's alone. You are going to give her the coke, tell her to keep her mouth shut, and leave."

I nodded, my stomach fluttering at the prospect of seeing Krista again. We had so much to talk about. She'd be dead jealous of my stitches...she was always doing more and more to seem more "badass".

"Thank you," I tried to convey my sincerity to him—to show him how much I appreciated this, and that I wouldn't mess it up.

He just gave me a tight-lipped nod and left.

I reflected on the past few minutes, frowning as I realized that the interruption (namely, his kick-ass-now-ask-questions-later mind-set) deterred him from ever getting around to why he had actually come calling. Due to his attention deficit and evident madness, I wagered that I'd probably never know.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

I was hounding Parker as soon as the sun set and he reluctantly led me out to the Dodge. I bounced over to it and slid into the passenger seat, promptly flipping down the visor to study my reflection. I deemed myself acceptable to be out in public, though the only person that would really see me would be Krista.

"So, where's she going to be?" Parker asked as he turned the key in the ignition. The car spoke before I could, making a noise that I imagined sounded comparatively like livestock dying (I've never been out in the country, so I guess I wouldn't know for sure). He tried the starter two more times, eliciting the same response from the engine.

"Car no go," I stated obviously.

Parker's eyes locked with mine, eyebrows raised. "Guess we're walking," he established. "Least it's a nice night," he tacked on as he got back out.

"Why can't we take the van?"

"Some of the boys are out doing business," he informed me. I had no clue what that meant. "Come on, then," he sighed as he started off towards the lights of Gotham City.

"What day is it?" I asked him, curious. I made a mental note to by a calendar or something so I could keep track of this kind of stuff. All days sort of blended together in the Joker's world.

"Sunday," Parker responded, the word slightly indistinct due to a cigarette resting between his lips. "Why?"

My mood elevated tenfold. "Perfect. I know exactly where she'll be. And she'll be alone."

"How can you be so sure?"

I just smiled in the darkness. "I know my best friend."

I felt more than saw Parker's uneasy glance to me, but I brushed it off. "Sorry you got stuck tailing me," I apologized.

"My job, remember?" was all he said to that.

We walked in silence for a long time then, me leading the way through backstreets and alleys, Parker following wordlessly, ever vigilant.

"That's it," I said, gesturing from our alley to the condemned building across the street.

"The old theatre?"

I took one more drag of my cigarette before dropping it to the ground and snuffing it with my toe. "If she's anywhere, she's here. She _should_ be alone…"

Parker placed a hand on my shoulder to keep me from advancing. "When you say _should_ be…"

I turned to him. "This is our place. Mine and hers. We've been coming here for years, just the two of us."

"Why?"

I shrugged and smiled, remembering old times. "Started out as just a couple of kids urban exploring. Later we decided it was the best place for us to sneak off and smoke. I had my first cigarette up there. First hit of pot, too," I squinted up to the top of the building, looking for a pair of dangling legs on the edge. "Anyways, it's been every Sunday night since I can remember," I silently hoped she'd stay true to form and be up there in spite of my recent disappearance.

I started to depart once more, but Parker's voice, almost urgent and pleading, stopped me. "Sarah."

I turned once more and regarded him. He shifted uncomfortable under my gaze, and brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "Maybe you shouldn't…" he trailed off, seemingly frustrated by his own lack of words. "I mean—do you know how she'll take this? Best friends…she's not going to want to see you go so soon after thinking you've been dead or…whatever."

I'd never seen Parker so ineloquent, and a foreboding twinge of doubt made my stomach twist. Why was he so nervous? I tried to shake it off. I was _so _close to her. I couldn't turn back now. "Don't worry," I attempted an airy laugh, to prove to him that his concern was ridiculous and unfounded, but only succeeded in voicing the nervousness that had just settled over me. "Really," I said seriously. "I won't be long."

He followed me across the street and around the back of the theatre. Stopping me one last time, he leaned his face down to mine. He stared hard in my eyes, which I didn't like. He made me feel like he was conveying this silent message to me that I was supposed to understand somehow. "If she offers, say no."

I frowned at him. "I told you I don't do that stuff."

"I _mean_ it, Sarah," he warned. "Drop it off and come back down so we can get home."

He leaned against the dark walls, disappearing into the surrounding shadows. It reminded me of the first time I met Mr. J (was it only a week ago?) and as I started up the fire escape I had to push the thoughts of our sexy first encounter out of my head. The metal groaned loudly under my feet, and I heard Parker's sharp, "Shh!" as I moved upward. I slowed, hoping that it would quiet my ascent some. It did, and before I knew it I was hopping up to grab hold of the rooftop ledge.

I pulled myself up, squirming over the safeguard and dropped unceremoniously (and none too quietly) onto the roof. I saw her spin around at my noise.

"Sarah?" her whisper rang out, alarmed and disbelieving.

"Sup slut?" I gave her my usual greeting as I brushed myself off.

"Ohmigod!" she breathed as her arms came around me in a crushing hug. "I thought you were _dead _or…I don't know _what _I thought. I can't believe you're here!"

"Every Sunday, right? Yeah, things have been a little hectic for me lately, but who am I to break tradition?"

My heart broke when I saw the tears shining in my best friend's eyes, waiting to escape.

"No time for sappies, though, I'm afraid. Just came to drop this off," I pulled her present out of my pocket and pushed it into her hands slyly. "It must be Hell without me around, so I figured this might help a little."

Her eyes widened when they fell on the package in her hands. Her astonished and slightly excited disposition switched immediately to one of scorn, and I felt my smile fall. "I'd ask where you got this, but I don't think I want to know," she gave a great sigh and slung an arm around my shoulder, leading me to our spot at the other edge of the roof. "At the same time," she continued, "I think I _do _know, and I wish I didn't."

She met my gaze, and I couldn't look away. That girl is too clever for her own good. "I was wondering why the inquisition hadn't started yet."

"You're with _him_, aren't you?" she shot off before I'd scarcely finished my comment.

I gave a sigh, having absolutely no idea how to handle this situation. Why hadn't I prepared for this bit at all?

"Look, Krista—"

"You _are_!" she cut in, but it came in a scandalized tone rather than one of disapproval.

"You never saw me. You didn't tell anyone about that text, did you?"

"No, of course not," she replied, clearly annoyed that I would think her so dumb. "You were missing, but texting me—you obviously didn't want to be found. What's he like?" she asked eagerly, tucking her brown curls behind her ears.

"He's crazy," I told her plainly. "Look I _really_ don't have a lot of time. I just wanted to bring you that and—"

"And make sure I don't open my mouth," she finished. "Its fine, I get it," she turned from me partially. I placed my arm around her.

"And I wanted to _see_ you. I miss you. Oh, hey!" I remembered, pulling up my shirt. "Check it out."

"Wicked!" her amazement melted quickly into concern as she put her 'best friend' hat on again. "What happened?"

I grinned wolfishly. "You were right. About the bank. It was me. I got shot."

"_Twice_?" she gasped, her fingers tracing the stitches gently.

I shifted, uncomfortable, suddenly wishing I hadn't brought her attention to my growing scar collection. "No…one of them is from an…operation."

I accidentally met her questioning gaze and had to tell her about the dream, and Mr. J's solution to my birth control needs. She was upset, as I knew she would be.

"Forget about it," I smiled, trying to ease her concern. "Have fun with that stuff, stay safe," I wrapped my arms around her again for one last hug, "and don't forget to be concerned about me. I know you can do it. We _both_ know you're quite the little actress." We both smiled at that, each of us no doubt lost in reminiscence for a moment.

When I reached the back wall with the fire escape I turned to her one more time. "I love you, Krista."

"I love you too, Sarah."

I had to make myself go then, or I'd never want to. I hopped over the edge of the roof and dropped down to the fire escape. When I got back to the bottom I glanced up once more. Her faint silhouette leaned over the edge to peer at me as Parker and I walked away.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Yeah… I'm a horrible person, I know. I mean seriously, that delay was just…ridiculous and uncalled for. Except for the part where I don't have internet at home anymore… that had a little bit to do with it. Well, thanks so much to Instant Karma () for reviewing all of my chapters and inspiring me to get off my lazy bum and get on this story again.**

**I don't deserve reviews for making you wait so long, but I'm selfish and am going to ask for them anyways. =) Love! 3**


	10. Chatting

It was nearly midnight when we returned to the house. We entered through the sliding door in the kitchen, and I took a seat at the counter after grabbing a soda from the fridge.

"You should probably go report back to the Boss and let him know it went smoothly," Parker suggested, copying me and sitting on the other side of the counter. He pulled a newspaper towards him and started scanning it halfheartedly.

"I'll go to him before I go to bed," I decided out loud. Sighing, I laid my head down on my folded arms, leaving my soda untouched.

"Thought your spirits would be a bit higher tonight," Parker commented from behind his paper.

"It was nice seeing Krista…" I agreed. "I just wish I had gotten a bit more time with her."

"Well you're lucky you got to go at all."

"I know," there was silence for a bit, and then I asked, "What do you think the odds are of me getting to her again?"

I glanced up to see Parker peering at me over the top of the _Gotham Times_. "Not very good, I'm afraid."

I sighed again and nodded, figuring as much. It had only been but a week, but it was really nice to have contact with the real world again; with people that slept at night, and didn't thrive on violence and mayhem—_normal_ people. I told him as much, and he laughed.

"_This_ is the real world now," he responded, gesturing around us. "Soon enough," he continued as he flipped through the newspaper, "Soon enough it's gonna be the same way out there," he nodded his head, acknowledging the outside world.

I nodded my agreement—had too. "He's certainly moving fast."

"Not fast enough," the rough voice that came from behind startled me. Everything happened quickly then; I had enough time to see Parker's body slide to the ground, presumably unconscious, before the darkness took me.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

My head throbbed before I even opened my eyes. When I _did_ open them, I had to squeeze them shut quickly owing to the white light that invaded my unprepared pupils. I couldn't silence the moan that crawled up my throat. I felt groggy, and _tired_. I shifted uncomfortably in the chair on which I sat, and found with growing alarm that my hands were bound behind me. _Stay calm_, I reasoned with myself. _Just stay calm._

I opened my eyes once more, slowly this time, and blinked until they readjusted to the startling light. I was in a very large, long, white room. Upon inspection I found that it was so bright because every inch of the ceiling was covered in lights. The room was fairly empty, save for the massive black _tank_ that sat twenty feet in front of me.

The Batmobile. Wow. I tried to crane my head around to look behind me, but only succeeding in spotting a desk, computers and TV monitors in my peripheral vision. My stirring must have alerted someone. I heard movement behind me; the distinct sound of a chair sliding backwards, then steps.

I knew where I was—well, not literally, but in theory—so I wasn't surprised when the Batman stepped in front of me. God, he was tall.

"Sarah Warner," his coarse voice stated. I looked up at him in silence. There was no arguing it—_obviously_ he would know my identity. "The Joker's…" he trailed off. "What? Accomplice? Girlfriend?"

I felt myself blush at the latter suggestion. If only I were so lucky. I didn't answer him. I didn't know how, seeing as how we'd never bothered with any labels. I didn't have any major function with Mr. J; I was just kind of…around.

"You're not going anywhere, so silence won't win you any battles," he growled after a moment.

I glared up at him. "What do you want me to say?"

"What are you doing with the Joker?"

I shrugged, as best I could while tied to a chair. "I…honestly don't know. I just do things with him."

"Help him plan?"

That query made me frown. "I don't think he quite _plans_ things so much as…I mean he's very spontaneous…impulsive. A lot of the time we just pile up and go. Nowhere special, at first…just…_go_," I wanted to make it very clear that I didn't know anything about the Joker. At least…nothing the Batman would be interested in.

"Why are you with him?"

I shrugged again. "I don't know. I like being with him," through his mask, I could see his eyes narrow. "Look," I sighed. "I'm just not going to have any answers for you. At least none that you'll like. I don't even have answers for _myself_. You can ask me a million questions."

"Sarah, the Joker killed your family," he sounded as if he were dropping this huge, tragic bombshell on me.

All I gave him was a detached, "I know." I thought I had him, thought I had gotten through. Then he hit me with this one:

"Alright. Tell me about Krista Miller."

I reeled, visibly, not expecting that one. "W-what?" I stuttered out, confused.

"Krista Miller. The girl you met at the theatre."

So that was it. Mr. J, Parker, they both had reason to worry. We'd been tailed.

"She—she's my best friend. I wasn't supposed to go to her, but I felt bad for disappearing on her."

He frowned and paced for a moment. "She had cocaine on her. A lot. She had a severe reaction to it, but she couldn't have done more than a few snorts."

The next feeling was hard to describe. It was as if my blood turned to ice in my very veins, my heart jumped into my esophagus and dropped to my stomach in the very same moment; I was pretty sure my soul shattered.

"…Reaction?"

"Yes," he nodded, walking passed me. I heard the distinct sounds of keyboard keys clicking, and then: "But it wasn't to the drugs, it was whatever they were laced with."

_I'll have the boys cut and package it for ya._

Christ. Krista. "Is she…" I couldn't even ask.

"She's safe. Under supervision until her condition changes," he was in front of me again, standing tall and formidable.

Okay… I took a deep breath. "And were her condition to change…"

"It would most likely be for the better. She's been seizing every now and then, with decreasing frequency."

I felt like I was going to puke out my stomach.

"What was in the drugs?" Wow, he really didn't beat around the bush. The question seemed almost accusatory, and that made anger flare up inside me.

"You tell me," I shot back.

He stared at me for a long moment, studying me, "He poisoned her, didn't he?"

"He's punishing me," I admitted. "But if Krista's okay…"

"We don't know that yet," he countered. "Cocaine does a lot of neurological damage."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn't know who to blame more for this; me, or Mr. J? He poisoned her, but I delivered that poison right to her hands.

"If there's anything—_anything_ that you think could help… No doubt he's moved his base by now. I sacrificed that one, to retrieve you."

_Retrieve_ me? He made it sound like I was a kidnap victim or something. "I already told you: he never told me anything, I don't _know_ anything, and even if I _did_, I _wouldn't_ tell _you_!" I hissed at him.

He just stared at me for a moment before standing up and walking away. "I'm taking you to the police," his distant voice informed me. I heard him moving about somewhere behind me again. He returned with another zip tie and bound my hands again. Then he placed a black cloth over my eyes, securing it behind my head. "They'll probably question you some more, then decide whether or not your worth sending off to Arkham."

"Fabulous," I spat bitterly. He released me from my chair, and with an iron grip around my arm, led me to his vehicle. "Fuck the cops," I told him as the engine roared to life and we started off. "Just take me straight to Arkham."

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

He ignored my request and took my to the police station anyways. So I sat in a dimly lit interrogation room, drumming my fingers on the table before me and glaring at the guard from the corner of my eyes, waiting. I'd been waiting for awhile now.

"Will the dear Commissioner be joining us soon?" I asked the guard, "Or am I just going to be chilling in here all night?"

He didn't answer, but shifted about uncomfortably. Was he nervous? Why? I hardly presented any kind of threat without the Joker around. Surely they knew that. My hands weren't even cuffed!

I started thinking: my hands weren't cuffed. If I wanted to—_needed_ to—I could fight my way out of here. I arched my back and stretched my arms as if growing stiff, and casually brought my hands around to rub my back. My fingers brushed my knife, and my heart leapt. Had Batman missed that? Or had he deemed me harmless, despite being armed?

But if I made a move now, I had a whole police station to fight through. And I wasn't going to kid myself to think I was as clever as Mr. J. I was still debating when a low buzz sounded, the door opened, and in stepped Commissioner Gordon.

He regarded me for a moment, and then motioned for the other officer to leave the room. When we were alone, he walked towards me slowly and sat down across from me. "Sarah Warner," he greeted me, nodding his head.

"Commissioner," I nodded in return, then I gave him a sweet smile. "Did you get the present we left for you?"

"You mean the burning cannon in my driveway?"

I felt my smile grow. "That's the one!"

He frowned. "What are you doing, Sarah?"

I mirrored his frown. "What do you mean?"

"Running around with the Joker," he clarified. "What's in it for you?"

I looked at him blankly in silence. He sighed. "Look, he's going to kill you the first chance he gets. You know too much."

I laughed, long and hard. My eyes grew moist with tears, and I wiped at them, chuckling. "You're really trying to turn this into some big drama, aren't you?"

The Commissioner just stared at me, his mouth a firm line.

"He won't kill me, because I don't know anything. And he knows that even if I _did_, I wouldn't betray him."

"You mean like he betrayed you?"

I prickled and shifted. A fresh wave of agony flooded through me. "He didn't _betray _me," I corrected, scoffing. "Krista was a threat."

His eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded. "Yes. I can see how much of a threat a teenage girl could be to someone like the Joker."

I didn't notice that my fists had clenched until I felt the sting of my fingernails digging into my palms. He was pushing me, I realized. Trying to make me lose my temper so I would foul up. And I was playing right into his game.

With a deep breath, I relaxed my hands and put on my poker face.

"Krista Miller has been moved to Arkham," he informed me, his keen eyes watching me over the frames that had slipped down his nose.

That softened me a bit. "So she's getting better then." I stated, hope blossoming inside my chest.

He shook his head, pushing his glasses back up to their proper place on the bridge of his nose. "She's suffered some brain damage."

"Brain damage," I echoed softly.

"She doesn't do much but babble and laugh. Whatever the Joker put in that cocaine, it was meant to kill her."

"Well duh," I retorted childishly.

"I could slap you with attempted murder, you realize," he threatened as he stood up.

I gazed up at him from my seat, a knowing smile playing on my lips. "I know. But you won't."

He frowned, clearly not happy that I was privy to that info. "You're going to Arkham for a psychological evaluation. We'll just see what happens after that."

The door buzzed and two policemen stepped in as the Commissioner left. One of them was the man who had guarded me earlier. His demeanor seemed different, I noticed as he asked me to stand and place my hands on the table.

I complied, and he cuffed my hands behind my back. I was sure that he had felt the knife hidden in my jeans, but soon he was leading me through the police station and out to a vehicle.

He assisted me into the backseat of a squad car, and before the door closed, I saw him smile and give me a small nod of respect.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Arkham was everything I thought it would be: cold and white. I was filed through the hallways and deposited into a boring white room, no doubt not unlike every other cell in the rat hole.

White, padded walls; four of them. The only irregularities on these perfectly padded walls were as follows: a heavy, white door, complete with a small observation slot, and a small stain on the far wall; a suspiciously rust-colored stain that appeared to have been scrubbed to all Hell, but to no avail. Blood stain. I felt the chill crawl all the way up my spine before my body involuntarily shuddered.

I stretched out on my bed, first counting the ceiling tiles above me, then the seconds as they ticked by. Somewhere after 38 I started thinking about Krista.

Somewhere in this loony bin was my other half. Somewhere in the twisted hallways, Krista sat in a room, just like mine, giggling.

As the tranquilizers started kicking in, and I felt my eyes grow heavy with drowsiness, my thoughts floated to Parker. Had he been the one to poison the coke? If not, had he known all along? All signs pointed to yes as I recalled the previous evening (daylight had just been breaking as I arrived at the asylum). He had made it very clear to me that I wasn't to touch any of the drugs. Had that been Parker's warning, or Mr. J's? My head spun as I mulled over everything.

Could I forgive Mr. J for what he did to Krista? _That_ question sent me laughing. Hadn't I already? I laughed harder as I realized what a mighty fool I was; I had forgiven Mr. J the second I had suspected him. Why? He was right to think me stupid for following him so blindly. I had jumped right into the game without learning the rules.

But I knew the rules now. It had taken time, effort and loss, but I knew the rules now.

The _problem_ was that the Joker didn't play by any rules. And I was just starting to realize how unfair that was.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Two days of crap food and nothing to do, and I was truly losing my mind. I had learned quickly that this place truly was a nuthouse. I spent my first full night with my pillow clamped over my head, listening to the other…what, patients? Inmates?...screaming; howling about nothing and everything. And I couldn't even take the meds and pass out. Medications, one nurse told me, are to be held off until my evaluation.

That was today.

I wasn't awake for long before there were two sharp pounds on my door. "Step back with your hands on the far wall," a gruff voice instructed. I did as I was told, and moments later I heard the door groan open.

"Hands in front," the guard commanded as he spun me around. I obeyed, curious, until my eye caught the white thing in his hand.

"Oh, no, no no no," I laughed backing away. "That's a little unnecessary, don't you think?"

The guard frowned, advancing on me and holding out the straight jacket. "With the Joker's girl, no precaution is unnecessary."

_The Joker's Girl_. "What?"

But my question was unanswered. Instead, I was strapped into a straight jacket and directed to therapy.

I sat in the new room, agitated. I tapped my feet restlessly in the same manner that I would have drummed my fingers. I bounced up and down slightly in my chair, squirming to find an angle at which the damn metal thing was comfortable.

This room was an interrogation room, or, rather, Arkham's version of one. It contained two metal chairs, with a metal table in between, and a bigger observation window in the door. The rest of the room was the same, boring, white padding.

The door swung open, and in walked my therapist; tall, blonde, and the only thing (besides me) in this room that wasn't bolted to the floor. She regarded me with ice blue eyes before she occupied the chair across from me. "Dr. Roberta Stenson," she greeted, nodding to me.

"Sarah Warner," I introduced myself, pretending she didn't know everything about me already. "I'd shake your hand but…" I trailed off, glancing down at the straight jacket that confined my arms.

She gave me a small smile. "Of course. Now," she began, flipping through a folder. I leaned forward to try to catch a glimpse of the contents. "Do you know why you're here?"

I laughed. "Do you?"

"It does not matter if_ I _know why you're here. It's if _you _know that is the important thing."

"Quite the contrary, Doc, I should think it _very_ important that you know. After all, you _are _the one in charge."

To this she just cleared her throat, and flipped through more papers in her folders.

"Whatcha got in there, Doc?" I asked her, peering over the table again. "Police records? Pictures? Old report cards? I'll save you some trouble and tell you right now: none of that stuff is going to tell you anything about _me_."

When had I turned into another person? Was it after meeting the Joker, or before?

"Okay," she cleared her throat, closing the file and placing it on the table. "Tell me then."

"One condition," I stated. Her only response was the raising of her eyebrows. "I want some fucking meds to get me through the nights. Can't sleep with all the crazies screaming."

"I can prescribe some sedatives," she dangled in front of me. "Tell me why you're with the Joker."

"Because I love him." _Pause_. Now, I had decided, very spur of the moment-like, that that was the only answer she was getting. It seemed very funny at the time. I just wanted to mess with this chick's head. It wasn't until the second the words were spoken out loud that I realized they were true. Fuck. _What?!_ I can't be _in love_ with the Joker! But I was, I realized. I had been from the beginning. The whole thing was so fucking _stupid_, that I burst out laughing the second I had finished talking.

My laugh grew as she frowned, and suddenly I was in a dark alley, alone with the Joker, laughing insanely. Clutching his jacket. Pushed up against the wall. Kissing his neck. Laughing. I had grown manic somewhere between when the session had started, and that moment. It wasn't until a guard was pulling me out of my seat that I realized the Doctor was no where to be seen.

_Session's out early today, I guess_. I thought, and that sent me laughing so hard that I collapsed to the floor. It took two guards to haul me up and pull me out into the hallway. Dr. Stenson was there, clutching the file to her chest, looking dismayed and alarmed. And I laughed. I laughed as they pulled me through the hallways. I laughed as they threw me in my room. And when they slammed the metal door shut, leaving me trapped in my straight jacket, I was still laughing.

Needless to say, I didn't get my meds that night.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**That's all for now darlings… review please!**


	11. Escape!

**I know what you're thinking, but it's really not ENTIRELY my fault this time. My beta was having computer problems and it took us awhile to be able to communicate about this chapter. Here it is!**

The next day I was informed that all new Arkham "patients" were due for a physical upon arrival, and that it was time for mine. I was still in my straight jacket from the day before, so I just went limp and let the brute of a guard drag me to the medical wing.

The nurse was waiting when I got to the office. She looked up and smiled at me, then addressed the guard. "If you could just remove the straight jacket…"

He complied, and I stretched my arms. My muscles ached. "I'll need you to undress and slip this on," she told me, shoving a paper gown into my hands. "You'll have to leave," she told my watcher. "Confidentiality, and all that."

The guard nodded and left. I looked around the room and spotted the private dressing corner. I was about to make my way over to change when she spoke.

"Drats," she muttered. "I left your folder at the front desk. Go ahead and change, I'll be right back." I watched her leave, and heard her explain, "I have to retrieve her file. She's changing; keep an eye on the door."

_This is it_. I thought. My golden opportunity. I quickly glanced around the office for a possible weapon. I actually laughed in surprise when I found some packaged scalpels in a drawer. I prepared one for use and hid two more on my person. I could hear steps coming down the hall. It was probably my nurse.

I grabbed up the paper gown and yanked the curtain shut around the changing area. The door opened. I could see her silhouette on the fabric separating us. Her back was to me. "Are you ready?"

_Am I? _"Just about," I told her. _Just about ready to slit your throat. _I had a brief moment of doubt. Was I actually attempting a _break out_ here? But then I thought about it logically. Or rather, how Mr. J might think of it: I'm already in the fucking loony bin. What are they going to do if they stop me? Sedatives? Then I try again another day.

I opened the curtain casually. She was setting out tools. Preparing for what she thought was a routine pap smear. _Not likely_. Her back was still too me. I softly stepped up behind her and wrapped my arms around her; one hand on her mouth, the scalpel ready at her neck.

"You make a _sound_ and it will be your last. Get it?" she nodded in my grasp. "Good," I whispered in her ear. "Because I'm ready to _leave_, right? And you're gonna help me."

I thought for a moment, trying to form some kind of offhand plan based on my surroundings. _Come on…think! Mr. J does this all the time…think…_

"I hope you're a good little actress, darling, because I'm going to need you to get rid of that guard out there. We're going to pretend I'm having…a seizure. You're going to tell him to go get the head nurse. Then you're taking me in the opposite direction. Think you can do that, toots?" I could _feel_ the adrenaline pumping through my veins; my heart thudded in my chest.

She didn't give me any kind of response. I sighed. She could be difficult. If she tipped off the guard this whole thing would be fucked. "Listen doll," I sighed, "You cooperate with me on this, you may just make it out alive. But if you spoil my fun…" I sucked a breath in through my teeth and shook my head. "Well you can bet that when I _do_ get out," I paused, putting my lips directly to her ear, "and I _will _get out—well, Mr. J and I will come after you personally, just for the fun of it."

She was shaking now. I think she was crying. "How bout it? Help me out?" she nodded. "Good."

I removed my hand from her mouth hesitantly. When I was sure she was staying quiet I knocked over the tray of tools; they clattered to the floor noisily. "Now," I whispered putting a little more pressure on the scalpel against her neck.

"She's seizing!" the nurse called out. "Go get the head nurse!"

"Right away!" the guard called through the door. I heard his boots clomping down the hall.

"_Verrry _good," I encouraged. "Let's get out of here, shall we?" I pushed her forward, but kept a firm grasp on the back of her white coat. She took off at a jog down the hallway. "Keep away from security now!" I warned her, as I saw that she was directing me towards the front entrance. "Shall we go through the back?"

I thought I heard her curse under her breath as we changed directions. It was pretty much a straight shot to the back of the building. I could see the exit sign above the door. I was almost out. A feeling shot through me that made my body feel like lead. I think I even slowed our running. _Too easy_. It was just _too _fucking _easy_! The last time things went so smoothly for me I ended up _shot_. _Holy hell_.

But we reached the exit, and there were still no signs of any pursuit. I grabbed the woman's shoulder and spun her around. Without another thought, I sliced her throat and headed through the door.

Daylight. Bright. Sun. I had to shield my eyes at first. I hadn't seen real light in _days_. I had forgotten the world could be so _bright_. I stumbled in my first few steps, but as I regained my balance and sight I was stopped dead.

A white van. Ten feet away. And loading out of it, a bunch of clowns, and in the middle of them, mine; Mr. J. They didn't notice me until they started walking towards the asylum. I ran up to Mr. J. He stopped walking.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, breathless from running.

"Breaking you out!" he informed me. "What the hell are _you _doing?"

"Escaping! Let's keep doing it!" I told him frantically, bypassing them for the safety of the van.

"Alright boys, let's go!" the Joker called shortly after, turning around after me.

As I hopped inside, I heard one of his boys mutter, "That was the easiest mission ever."

The van started pulling away, and I had a thought. "Wait!" I called. The driver halted. "As long as you're all prepared for a break out…" I turned truly pleading eyes to Mr. J. "Can we go get Krista?"

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

They loaded me up with a gun and a gas mask. I watched as a clown went over to the exit and started messing around with a wire box.

"Security system," Mr. J explained as he pushed something round into my hand. "You get _separated_, or in trouble, use this." I studied the object in my hand.

"…Grenade?"

"Laughing gas," when I raised an eyebrow at him, he chuckled. "It's the gaseous form of the poison I added to the coke. _Deadly_. Laughing gas, I suppose would be more ac-cur-ate."

"Right," I nodded, gripping the bomb in my hand.

"All set!" the security clown called to us.

I donned the gas mask and followed them back inside; Mr. J raised an eyebrow at the corpse by the door. _Wasn't I just in here_? I thought, exasperated. Then I started laughing. A lot. Mr. J had to tug on my arm to keep me moving.

We arrived to the corner of the main hall at the same time as my guard and who I assumed was the head nurse. She let out a shriek when she saw my company and the guard reached for his gun. Mr. J tossed one of those gas bombs at them and I heard a bang as my vision was filled with plumes of neon yellow smoke. I grabbed Mr. J's jacket just as he disappeared into the fog. He dragged me along quickly; I could hear his laughing through his gas mask.

He swung me around a sharp corner, and just ahead of us I could see a clown swiping a badge over a door on the right. _Krista._ I pulled away from the Joker and bounded forward, pushing past the henchman and ripping off my gas mask as I entered the room. "Krista!"

She was sitting with her knees to her chest in the corner, both arms wrapped securely around her legs. She giggled when she saw me. "Sarah," she sing-songed softly. "Sarah's here, hehehe," she tilted her head to each side, and then went completely still. When she spoke again, her voice was low, accusing, "Are you here to give me my shots?"

A renewed wave of anger at Mr. J washed over me. "Nooo, sweetie," I assured her softly, bending down in front of her. "No, I'm here to take you home."

"Home?" she echoed; then she giggled.

"Home with me," I smiled and took her hand. "But we have to go _right _now, okay?"

The Joker had his gas mask pulled up and a radio to his mouth. "Pull around the back of the _West. Wing._"

I pulled Krista into a standing position. I was about to lead her away when I remembered the bomb in my hand. _Any more of that shit could seriously fuck her up_. "Here Krista, wear this," I told her, handing her the gas mask.

"Why?" she questioned, eying the hideous mask with distrust.

"There's a bad smell in the hallway. You don't want to smell that yucky smell, do you?" I asked her. She shook her head and accepted the mask, pulling it on over her face. In my peripheral vision, I could see Mr. J watching us.

I motioned one of the boys over. I put Krista's hand in his. "This man is going to get you out of this place. He's my friend. I'll be right behind you, okay?" she nodded, looking at the clown timidly. She was twitching slightly.

Turning to the clown, I narrowed my eyes. "Guard her with your _life_," I told him.

"Of course."

I turned to Mr. J. "Let's go."

He nodded, and we were bounding through the halls once more. I felt a sharp pain on the bottom of my foot and stumbled. I looked down to see a smear of blood on the ground, right next to….a bloody scalpel. It had fallen out of where I had tucked it into my hideously orange jumper, and I had stepped on it. Of _course_ I stepped on it.

I sighed, and prepared to keep moving when a set of hands from behind me clamped down on my upper arms. Instinctively, I dropped my gun and pulled the pin on the bomb in my left hand, dropping it to our feet.

I jabbed my elbows back into my assailant and brought my sleeve-covered hands to protect my mouth and nose—but not before catching a breath of pungent, putrid, noxious gas.

I coughed as I ran away, and soon my group of would-be rescuers was back in sight. I followed them out the back exit. I was still coughing as I hopped into the van; my lungs felt like they were on fire.

"You…_okay_?" Mr. J asked, studying me from the corners of his eyes.

I nodded and cleared my throat. "Got a face full of gas, but I'm fine." I had scarcely finished my sentence when the laughter hit me. "I just _escaped_, and then went back _in _to Arkham Asylum!" I laughed, clutching my stomach. It just seemed so _hilarious_. I felt happy. _Euphoric_, even. I was back with the boys, back with Mr. J. Home, even in this van.

"Well…thanks for coming to get me—even if I _was_ a step ahead of you," I wasn't mocking him, but he probably couldn't tell by my hysterical laughter at my own jab.

He stared into my eyes, and I felt myself sober up. "Thanks for keeping your mouth shut."

I looked around the van, hoping to catch sight of Parker now that the masks had come off. He wasn't with. I _did_, however, see the guard that had escorted me out to the police car. I pointed at him, my mouth open. He smiled.

"Had to make sure you were worth getting," the Joker threw out when he noticed my surprise.

I turned my attention to Krista. She occupied a corner of the van in the same position as earlier. If not for her occasional glances to the men around us, I would have guessed that she thought she was still in her room. "Krista," I said softly, scooting over to her. She gave me a small smile. Her dark eyes twinkled. "How are you?"

She stared at me and giggled.

"Krista?"

"Krista?" she echoed, then giggled some more.

I turned on Mr. J. "You fried her brain," I accused him.

"She fried it herself," he shot back.

I turned back to my best friend. "How do you know the devil?" she asked me softly. She was gazing over my shoulder.

It was the most coherent thing she had said since I'd found her. I glanced behind me to the Joker, then back to Krista. "He can't hurt you," I told her. "Don't worry."

"Can he hurt you?" her eyes shone with concern. I didn't want to tell her that he could, so I just smiled and shook my head. I hoped he didn't think that I thought that was _true_. I'd hate to finally get back home just to have him prove some shit to me right away. "Good," she breathed, closing her eyes and resting her head against the wall of the van.

I made myself comfortable by her, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair gently. I looked across the van to Mr. J. He was watching Krista and me again. _Why_ did he keep staring at us? "How'd you know where she was?"

His gaze flicked from Krista to me, and I found myself locked in his dead stare. "You weren't leaving without her."

I gave him a small smile, "You _do _know me!" He gave me a smirk, then went back to studying Krista. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and drew her closer to me protectively, eyes never leaving her almost-killer. I returned to stroking her hair and she sighed and rested her head on my shoulder.

"I don't like that place," she confided softly.

"You never have to go back there," I promised.

"Good. I'd rather stay with my Sarah," she sounded like a child. It made my heart hurt in the worst kind of way. Whatever had happened to her mind, the damage was done now. No more adventures. No more nights on the theatre. I tried to accept that this was the way that she was going to be from now on, but couldn't imagine, even when I tried, not having my old best friend back; the girl with which I could just exist, and not have to think about the front that I held around everyone else. The one person that knew me—truly _knew _me, inside and out, and loved me that way—and she was gone, now just seemingly a shell of her former life. There were no quips, no jabs; the fire that had once resided in her eyes had been extinguished, and so prematurely. She was too young to live like this. It didn't make sense. Why was _she _the one to lose her mind? She wasn't in cahoots with the Joker, _I _was. Shouldn't it have been _me _to lose my mind?

And then I remembered that I already had. And that's when the laughter came back.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**


End file.
